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FRANCIS 

EGAN 




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Lockyard .... grasped the leg of the nearest duck, lost his 
balance and went under the water. The other duck, released, flew 
upward with a cry of joy. Bertrand .... plunged in after 
Lockyard. Page 204. 


/ 

The Adventurers 


By 

MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN 

Former American Minister to Denmark 


J 


Author of “The Watson Girls," “The Watsons 
of the Country," “Jasper Thorn," “Jack 
Chumleigh at Boarding School etc . 



PHILADELPHIA 

H. L. Kilner & Co. 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright, 1922, by 
H. L. Kilner & Co. 


/ 


♦ * *> I 

. , 

1 , < 

©CI.A6S6633 i) 

(X 

W '3 i022 J 


To my 

Seven Grandchildren : 

Jerome and Katharine Elmer Murphy 
Jane and Katharine Egan ; 

Maurice Francis, 

Jack and Carmelita O Reilly 



The author gratefully acknowledges the kind 
permission of the Editor of Ave Maria to use 
part of this story which originally appeared 
with great success in that publication some 
time ago. 




* 




\ 

















CONTENTS 


I. 

In Normandy 

11 

II. 

Making Friends on the Way to 
Havre 

28 

III. 

The Son of a Soldier of France 

43 

IY. 

An Unexpected Telegram 

55 

Y. 

Bertrand’s Arrival in America 

70 

YI. 

A Dangerous Moment 

83 

YII. 

At Choir Rehearsal .... 

95 

Yin. 

A Schoolboy’s Quarrel . 

109 

IX. 

Bravery Conquers Loneliness 

120 

X. 

SCHMIDMEYERS’ BIRTHDAY PARTY 

124 

XI. 

Bertrand Finds His Uncle 

138 

XII. 

Searching for Captain de Value . 

155 

XIII. 

The Finding of Captain de Value . 

166 

XIY. 

Anxiety About Bertrand 

179 

XV. 

The Meeting of Father and Son . 

189 

XYI. 

Bertrand’s Heroism .... 

203 

XVII. 

A Letter From Old Friends . 

213 



The Adventurers 


I 

IN NORMANDY 

The war which, we all know, burst upon the 
world in August, 1914, brought terrible changes 
into many lives. It brought a great change into 
the lives of Amelie and Bertrand de Value. 
Their mother, an American (a Miss Amelie Wat- 
son), had died in 1912 ; and their father ( Captain 
de Value), late in September, 1914, was in the 
trenches, fighting. The two children were now 
left alone in an old manor house on the coast of 
Normandy, — their father’s chateau, near Paris, 
having been closed for the summer. 

Amelie de Value was just fifteen years of age — 
her birthday had occurred on the Feast of the 
Assumption, which is a great holiday in France. 
The servants had given her flowers, and the 
neighbors shown her all kinds of amiable atten- 
tions ; the cure had presented her with a dachs- 
hund (she liked dogs) ; and, altogether, it was 
a very happy day, — “ just the kind of day Amelie 

II 


12 


THE ADVENTURERS 


likes,” said Bertrand, who was thirteen years 
of age, “ because she’s the centre of everything.” 

“ I have a 6 glory ’ all to myself,” Amelie said; 
“ and, of course, that is nice.” 

Amelie was always honest, and she saw no 
reason why she should pretend not to like the 
attention she had received. 

Fairy lamps were laid in the grass of the 
garden in the evening, and she and Bertrand had 
each a cup of black coffee after dinner. A tele- 
gram came from their father, and the two 
children laid it, covered with Marshal Mel roses, 
on their mother’s tomb in the little graveyard 
near the chapel of Notre Dame de Falaise. Old 
Madame la Brune, who looked after them, had 
remitted all lessons — even the easy vacation 
lessons — for two days, so that Bertrand could 
share his sister’s “ glory.” And the sea ! And the 
Norman people making their pilgrimage in honor 
of Our Lady ! It was a time of real glory, — sun- 
light, flowers, fruit, and the dazzling ocean ! 

In September, Madame la Brune told the 
children that they were to leave their old house 
on the Normandy coast, and to go to the United 
States, — to their mother’s own land. Amalie 
wept. Bertrand could not understand why she 
wept. 


IN NORMANDY 


13 


“ We shall see red Indians,” he said, “ and the 
great buffaloes, and the forest, — the big forest I 
read about in * The Last of the Mohicans.’ ” 

“ All that is passed long ago,” answered 
Amalie. “ Father fears that the Germans may 
come here; therefore he sends us away. I am 
glad that I can speak and read English. Madame 
la Brune has given me this letter from our rela- 
tive. He writes of a nice, quiet house in the 
country. He says that, as we are his nephew 
and niece, he seems to be a great-uncle. He will 
give us a home and look after our affairs.” 

“ I shall not like him,” replied Bertrand, de- 
cidedly, “ if he is an eater of priests, like Raoul, 
in the village.” 

“ Raoul does not really eat priests,” Amelie 
felt it her duty to explain; “he only talks 
as if he did, when he drinks too much of the 
cider.” 

“ But our uncle ” 

“ He will leave us free to practice our religion, 
and he will do what he can for us. It is the 
best for us to go, and wait until father sends for 
us. But I do not fear the Germans.” 

“ Then let him leave us here. The Germans 
may be near the chateau, but they can not come 
here,” said Bertrand, decidedly. “If there are 


14 


THE ADVENTURERS 


no red Indians or buffaloes in tlie country of my 
mother, why should I go? I shall stay at home, 
and be ready to fight for my own country when 
I am older.” 

“ We must go.” 

“ Monsieur le Cure can take care of us.” 

“ But our father and uncle will it — that is our 
great-uncle, — and we must pack up and go. Ah, 
our dear France ! The sea, and Our Lady of the 
Cliffs, and the roses, and the good lessons from 
Madame la Brune ! ” 

“ Oh, the lessons ! ” said Bertrand. “ I should 
be happy enough if there were no lessons in 
mother’s country. But my rabbits! I shall 
take them with me. I wonder if the American 
boys can recite as many lines from Racine as I 
can. I took the prize for the great speeches in 
1 Athalie,’ you know. They will open their eyes 
when they hear that, — they will open their 
eyes ! ” 

“I am not sure. Mother told us that the 
American boys play hard games, and I never 
heard her say that they could recite poetry. 
And, then, they do not speak French.” 

“ Are they savages? There is only one great 
language and one great nation — the French,” 
said Bertrand. “ I will teach them ! They are 


IN NORMANDY 


15 


no better than red Indians, if they do not know 
that.” 

Am61ie laughed through her tears. 

“ What does a small boy like you know about 
the world? ” 

“ When these Americans see my school prizes, 
they will know something about me/ ; said Ber- 
trand proudly. “When they hear that my 
father’s ancestors fought in the Crusades, what 
will they say? ” 

“We must wait to see what they are like. The 
uncle is good, or he would not offer to keep us.” 

“We have money to pay,” said Bertrand, 
proudly. “ He has never seen us. Why should 
we not remain with Monsieur le Cur5? He is 
our old friend, and the friend of our mother and 
father. I could help in the garden, and serve 
his Mass, and I can sing. I know the Vesper 
Psalms already. What more? Some day I shall 
be a soldier and fight the enemies of France, is 
it not so? But I will never fight for the Aneri- 
cans, if I can not be a soldier at home. And 
when they ask me, if I refuse ” ( Bertrand puffed 
out his chest in a haughty manner) , “ of what use 
shall I be to the Americans? Of what use, I 
ask? ” 

“ There are more things to be done than fight- 


16 


THE ADVENTUEEKS 


ing. I will not hear of war all the time ; it pains 
my heart, — it pains my heart ! ” 

Amelie put her hands before her face, and 
Bertrand saw tears trickling through her fingers. 

“ O Amalie ! ” Bertrand said, trying to pull 
her hands away from her eyes. “ Look at me ! 
Do not cry! P&re Chalais says that I am a 
strong boy, — a very strong boy; and I will 
protect you against all the enemies of France.” 

“ Thank you, dear ! It is not that. Thank 
you ! ” Amelie kissed her ferocious brother. 

Bertrand began to pack his books into a small 
box. The children were in his room, which 
looked toward the sea. His kepi and sword were 
rolled very carefully in his peignoir, or what we 
would call a bath-robe. 

“ You may need the peignoir ; keep it in the 
dress suitcase.” 

“ No ; Madame la Brune says that it is now too 
cold to bathe. I shall not need it, as I shall 
not go into the sea again. The summer is 
over.” 

“ You may need it on the voyage.” 

“ I shall need, then, also my sword. Suppose 
pirates came aboard? A Frenchman’s place will 
be to defend his flag with his sword, is it not so? ” 

“Well, I am different,” said Amalie. “I am 


IN NOBMANDY 


17 


not thinking of pirates. When they come, I will 
trust in the good God.” 

Bertrand removed the palm branch from the 
vase in front of the little statue of St. Joseph. 

“ That will go, too,” he said, kissing it. “ And 
this.” 

It was a small roll which Bertrand had re- 
ceived at Mass on the Sunday before, — a piece of 
blessed bread given each Sunday to everybody 
in the church, according to the Norman cus- 
tom. 

“ I shall take it as a souvenir of the last Sun- 
day I helped to carry the blessed bread in the 
chapel. It always smells so good at the High 
Mass. — O Bubi, Bubi ! ” 

Bertrand ran to the window and laid the roll 
(first breaking it into pieces) on the floor of the 
balcony. Bubi was a large sea-gull, a particular 
and greedy friend of Bertrand’s, who, when he 
found no fish, or liked a change of diet, hung 
about the balcony of the room. 

“ Bubi is hungry to-day, and perhaps not well,” 
Bertrand said, thinking that he must excuse the 
sacrifice of his roll, “ and the blessed bread will 
be better for him; besides, St. Francis would 
all the more have given his birds bread that had 
been blessed, is it not so? ” 


18 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ I am afraid you are a poet.” Amalie picked 
up Bertrand’s disordered belongings and began 
to pack them. “ You have so much imagination. 
Madame la Brune says that I have none. The 
greedy Bubi called the others, and they are eat- 
ing the blessed bread.” 

“No, no!” said Bertrand. “They have 
smelled the bread, and come. Bubi never calls : 
he eats all himself. I know Bubi from the 
others, because he is fatter. How he shall miss 
me! ” 

The gulls (a half dozen by this time) flew off, 
and Amalie was now sure of Bertrand’s attention 
for a while. The children went on with their 
work, enlivened by the soft splash of the sea on 
the plage , — the brown pebbly beach they loved. 

Madame la Brune entered; she commended 
their diligence. 

“ You are invited to dine with Monsieur le 
Cure — both of you — this evening.” Madame la 
Brune spoke very slowly and softly. She was 
a little woman, dressed in a brown frock, which 
seemed to suit her name. Her eyes were keen 
and brown, and her hair had probably been 
brown before it had become white. She wore a 
black lace cap, and she generally carried in her 
hands a coarse netted bag, which at times held 


IN NORMANDY 


19 


everything, from her spectacles and her knitting 
to cauliflower and potatoes. Onions were prob- 
ably the only things that Madame la Brune never 
carried in her bag. “ And, as the parting gift, 
the cook of P&re Chalais has made for you a 
gateau a la Saint-Honored 

“ Oh ! ” said both the children, ecstatically. 
They liked the cake very much. 

Amelie was the first to recover herself. 

"We shall send it to the soldiers. We must 
offer it for our country. And I must leave my 
new dachshund to be sold for charity.” 

“ No, no ! ” Bertrand was very much excited. 
“ I will send my new five franc piece to the 
soldiers, and then we can eat the gateau in peace ; 
it would be hard to send it. But the dachshund 
might just as well be sold.” 

“ Well,” said Madame la Brune, smiling, “ you 
can each give a franc to Sister Pelagie for the 
Red Cross Hospital, with a clear conscience, and 
eat the gateau , and I will take care of the dog 
until you come back from America. In the 
meantime I will conduct the packing of the small 
boxes; the great trunks have already gone to 
Havre. And now you can play on the beach; 
keep in sight of the house. It is well that you 
should be out in the good French air; for the 


20 


THE AD VENTURERS 


day after to-morrow we shall depart for 
Dieppe.” 

There was a great deal of fun on the plage. 
Several hoys and girls with skirts and trousers 
pulled up, were chasing an imaginary shark, 
their governesses mounting guard over their 
shoes. Old Vaucoubert , 1 who was at times 
allowed to sing in church, was warbling some old 
chansons, as he leaned on his stick. The tide was 
coming in. Amelie and Bertrand hastened to 
take off their shoes and stockings, and joined 
the hunters of the shark, while Vaucoubert sang, 
“ II y etait une Bergere” It was delightful to 
be free; and these two children were so seldom 
free! There was always Madame la Brune. 
Even when their mother was alive there was 
always Madame la Brune; for it was her 
belief that well-bred children should never be 
left alone. Amelie jumped and splashed and 
yelled, and Bertrand shouted at the top of his 
voice. 

Manette, the bonne of the Des Arches children, 
called to her charges : 

“You are not nice, — you are too free! Re- 
member to be ladies and gentlemen even when 
you hunt the fierce shark ! ” 

1 Pronounced “ Vo-coo-bare.” 


IN NORMANDY 


21 


“ Oh, oh ! ” said Bertrand, his trousers wet up 
to the waist. “ I am free not to be a gentleman ; 
I am going to ‘ the land of the free and the home 
of the brave.’ ” 

“ Only the French are brave,” said the large 
Des Arches boy. 

“ The free must be brave ! — the free must be 
brave ! ” shouted Amelie, whose plaits of yellow 
hair had become untied. She was enjoying her- 
self. 

“ Poor children ! ” said Manette to Barbara, a 
young woman who was very dignified, being a 
governess and not a nurse. “ Let them be happy 
in France for a few days ; for they must go to the 
strange country discovered by our King Louis 
XV.” 

“You mean Canada?” asked Barbara, who 
was English. 

“ Oh, no : America,” said Manette. 

“ Is it true, then,” asked Vaucoubert, “ that 
the young De Values are going to America?” 
He stopped singing. 

There was a sorrowful note in their voices as 
the two women answered : 

“ It is true.” 

“ Then,” said Vaucoubert, “ they are indeed 
unhappy. I have a nephew in America. It is 


22 


THE ADVENTURERS 


not like France. You broil in tbe summer, you 
freeze in the winter, and — it is terrible ! one must 
always speak English. And they speak of 
‘ miles/ — ‘ miles/ instead of kilometres! And 
to turn kilometres into miles, you must multiply 
by five and divide by eight. Think of it! My 
nephew says he hopes one day to be a great 
singer like me. He makes money, but he must 
live among the strange people who have neither 
the speech of France nor the knowledge of 
France. He writes to me of the great, green 
melons they eat in the summer, and of the maize 
which they bite off with their teeth, like the pigs. 
Ah, my poor children ! How they will long for 
the good pot au feu and the songs of France! 
I will give them a letter to my nephew, and 
I will teach them a song which he will know; 
it is a song which I composed for him. 
Come, my children!” he called. “ There is 
yet some sunshine left; I will teach you a 
little song for my nephew who is in America. 
Come ! 99 

The children were growing tired of the hunt- 
ing of the shark, and the water had a chill in it ; 
so they gathered around Vaucoubert in a warm 
place on the beach, while he taught them his 
little song. It began: 


IN NORMANDY 


23 


“ If you were queen of roses, 

And I were king, 

And all the roses in the world were mine, 

And everything, 

We’d offer them upon Our Lady’s shrine.” 

Bertrand had a voice like a lark ; and Amelie 
sang very well, too. The other children joined 
with Vaucoubert’s trembling tones. It was easy 
to catch the air : 

“ Si vous etiez reine des roses, 

Et moi le roi! ” 

It was an old-fashioned melody. 

“ I arranged it from an air of the times of 
Jeanne d’Arc,” said Vaucoubert. “You have 
caught it? Now, altogether ! ” 

They sang the three stanzas very well. 

“ Charming! ” exclaimed Vaucoubert. 

“ Nobody in the whole world knows that song 
except Guy and us ; and when you meet him and 
sing that, he will know that you are little Nor- 
mans and my friends.” 

“ That will be lovely ! ” said Amelie, humming 
the tune. “ It will be better than a letter of in- 
troduction ; better than a photograph, for photo- 
graphs are not the same when people have 
changed.” 


24 


THE ADVENTURERS 


Vaucoubert beamed on Ms little group. His 
red face was a mass of wrinkles when be smiled, 
and his grey hair stood up straight; a fierce 
white mustache covered his upper lip. 

“ Again ! ” he called. 

The little group, assisted by Manette and Bar- 
bara, began again : 

“ Si vous etiez des roses! ” 

Vaucoubert beat time with energy. 

“ It is from my opera,” he said, — “ an opera I 
shall never finish, but Guy may.” 

“We will help Guy when we see him,” said 
Bertrand ; “ though I do not know what an opera 
is. Depend on us ! ” 

Madame la Brune was now seen coming toward 
them. The children danced forward to meet her ; 
they knew that she would not scold, as she had 
given them a general permission, which included 
the privilege of wading in the sea. 

“Ah, mes enfants,” she said, “you are not to 
start so early ! A telegram says that the steamer 
will not sail so soon. There is some talk of 
mines. They are,” she added by way of explana- 
tion, “ terrible, explosive things that the nations 
at war with one another hide in the ocean; 


IN NORMANDY 


25 


and if a big ship touches them, there is a 
crash.” 

“ Oh, la ! la ! ” exclaimed Manette. “ I will 
never trust myself to go on the ocean, — never ! ” 

“ Ah, you are only a woman ! ” replied Ber- 
trand. “ We Frenchmen are never afraid. Show 
me a mine, Madame la Brune, and I will put it in 
its place ! ” 

“ You are a little St. George. But the mines 
are dangerous,” said Vaucoubert. 

Madame la Brune was a serious person. In 
her opinion, this was nonsense. 

“ The big trunks have gone off already. They 
are in Havre by this time, and yet the steamer 
will not sail because of the mines. At least, my 
friend who sent me the telegram says so.” 

“ Ah, this wretched war ! ” exclaimed Vaucou- 
bert. “ And yet it is well ; for the children will 
be kept in their beloved France.” 

“ Not for long.” Madame put her handker- 
chief to her eyes. “ Their great-uncle awaits 
them, and a way must be found. And another 
dreadful thing has happened. My daughter 
Louise is very ill, and I can not leave her now ; 
she is at Ault. And I promised to take the 
children to Dieppe, and then to Havre, and put 
them in care of Captain Grandcourt, whose 


26 


THE ADVENTURERS 


steamer is the great 6 La Lune/ which, as every- 
body knows, crosses the Atlantic in just more 
than a week.” 

“ Louise may be well by that time.” 

“ Oh, but I promised to take them to Dieppe 
first, to say good-bye to some of their mother’s 
old friends ! But Louise is suffering.” 

“ I will take them to Dieppe, if you will trust 
them to me.” Vaucoubert stretched himself to 
his full height. “ I am not young, and I should 
like to make a little journey before I die.” 

“ O dear Vaucoubert! ” Madame la Brune was 
much relieved. Vaucoubert’s voice could not be 
trusted, though he believed he was a great singer ; 
but otherwise he was the most trustworthy 
person, much respected by Captain de Value. 
Vaucoubert still believed in his voice. He had 
sung very well in his day ; but that day was long 
past. Still, his songs pleased the children. And 
he had such a stock of stories ! 

“ Oh, how lovely ! ” Amalie said, putting on her 
shoes. “ I shall write to papa to-night. He said 
he would join us in America as soon as the war 
is over.” 

“ It is decided, then, that I shall take the 
children to Dieppe, and wait till you, Madame, 
join us? ” 


IN NOEMANDY 


27 


“ Your expenses shall be paid.” 

“ I care not,” said Yaucoubert, clicking bis 
heels together in a guard bow. “ I am not poor, 
and the pleasure of the journey will suffice.” 

Everybody said good-bye to everybody else. 

“ Come, children ! ” called Madame la Brune. 
“ We must dress for the little dinner at Monsieur 
le Cure’s.” 

“ How happy you are ! ” Manette said to her 
own charges. “ You may stay in your own dear 
country.” 

All the children went away, singing: 


>> 


“ If you were queen of roses, 
And I were king . . 


n 


MAKING FRIENDS ON THE WAY TO HAVRE 

The children took small note of the dreadful 
news agitating the people around them ; news of 
battles and sudden deaths. By the middle of 
September, the little seaside town in which they 
lived was almost deserted. The pleasure-lovers 
had fled earlier, like butterflies before a cold 
blast of wind; and most of the young men had 
gone to join the army. The fishermen were now 
all old or middle-aged men. The German army 
was threatening Paris, and the women of the 
Mers were divided between sorrow for those who 
had gone so suddenly, and enthusiasm for the 
cause for which they were fighting. 

Some American tourists passed through Mers 
in a great panic, fearing that they could not 
reach home. They happened to call on Pere 
Chalais on the evening he gave his farewell 
supper to the children. They were asked to have 
a share of St. Honore’s beautiful cake, which 
consisted of a great deal of whipped cream, sur- 
rounded by crystallized oranges and sugared nuts 
28 


MAKING FKIENDS 


29 


and grapes. The gateau of St. Honors would 
alone have made the occasion great, even if the 
children had not been about to leave, — even if 
the Americans, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis, had not come 
to pay their respects to the parish-priest, who 
gave some information about the sailing of the 
French steamers for New York. Mrs. Ellis was 
a kind, motherly woman, anxious to be back with 
her own children in New York. 

“ Poor little souls ! ” she said. “ And they are 
to be sent in care of the Captain. Monsieur le 
Cure,” she added, in very good French, “ask 
their governess to let us take care of them on the 
voyage. You say that their uncle lives in Ohio. 
He could easily meet us, or come for them to our 
house.” 

“ It would give us great pleasure,” her husband 
said in English. “Poor little things! We 
Americans will look after them until the war is 
over, and they can then come back to France.” 

Vaucoubert, who was, of course, one of the 
guests, rose, clicked his heels, and bowed. 

“ Pardon ! ” he exclaimed. “ Madame la 
Brune, who is needed by her sick daughter, has 
entrusted these children — the children of a hero 
of France — to me, and I must be faithful to my 
trust.” 


30 


THE ADVENTURERS 


Mr. Ellis was inclined to laugh, — an inclina- 
tion which he concealed by pinning two small 
American flags on the right shoulder of each of 
the children. 

“ The left shoulder, the shoulder near the 
heart,” said Mr. Ellis, “ is reserved for the flag 
of France.” 

Vaucoubert had frowned: he was now all 
smiles. 

“ It is well,” he responded. 

The incident seemed graceful, but unimportant 
to the cure . Afterward he wished that he had 
cut short Vaucoubert’s eloquence, and given the 
children into the kind hands of Mr. and Mrs. 
Ellis. 

P&re Chalais could speak no English, but he 
and Mr. Ellis had become friends at once. Mr. 
Ellis, a tall heavily-bearded man, had such 
pleasant, brown eyes, and his handshake was so 
warm ; and he smiled so amiably. 

“ When my husband smiles,” Mrs. Ellis said, 
u he speaks all languages. This little girl speaks 
all languages, too. But the boy, — he will have a 
harder time in life; he seldom smiles.” 

This was true. Bertrand, who was merry 
enough at heart, seldom smiled. His eyebrows 
were heavy and black, and his lips rather thin; 


MAKING FRIENDS 


31 


lie Rad an appearance of sulkiness, when he was 
merely serious. lie sometimes laughed, but 
only, as he often said, when there was something 
worth laughing at. Pere Chalais was sure there 
was no occasion for the anxiety and even fear 
which Mr. Ellis showed at the news that the 
French Line would stop its sailings for some 
time. He talked — Mrs. Ellis translated — as if 
some awful calamity were certain to overtake his 
wife and himself. 

“We French,” said Pere Chalais, “are more 
calm than you, even with the Prussians on our 
land. But you worry because you may lose a 
little money, or perhaps be obliged to sail by a 
less fast line.” 

“ Time is money,” said Mr. Ellis. 

P&re Chalais shook his head. 

“ My husband is not accustomed to wait,” said 
Mrs. Ellis. “We Americans never wait.” 

Pere Chalais laughed. 

“All things come to him who knows how to 
wait, Madame Ellis.” 

“ In America we do not believe that.” 

Mr. Ellis interrupted : 

“What does he say? I wish I could under- 
stand French. I never thought languages were 
worth learning.” 


32 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ That, if we know how to wait, we shall not 
waste time in hurrying too much.” 

“ Festina lente,” said Mr. Ellis. u i Make 
haste slowly.’ I have heard that it can he done, 
but I never tried it.” 

“Festina lente ” echoed Bertrand. “ I know 
what that means. The gentleman can not be 
American, for he speaks Latin. And he is 
not like a red Indian. He does not wear 
skins.” 

Mrs. Ellis repeated this remark to her hus- 
band, who laughed, and patted Bertrand on the 
head. 

“ That is the way I scalp good little boys ! ” 
he said. 

But Bertrand shrank away, — these Americans 
were not to be trusted until one knew them very 
well! 

The day wore on. Rumors of the fury of the 
war increased as the German army neared Paris. 
Telegrams from Captain de Value arrived almost 
daily, and so the children were not worried as to 
their father’s fate. Louise, Madame la Brune’s 
daughter, grew worse and worse. There was a 
rumor that her husband had been shot. All was 
anxiety in the little town. War had made every- 
day life terrible; and it had come so suddenly 


MAKING FRIENDS 


33 


that the people had no time to adjust themselves 
to the strange condition of things. 

“When will father come back?” asked the 
little boys and girls. 

“ Soon.” 

“ But when? ” 

Perhaps even then the father, who had played 
with them so merrily a few days before, was lying 
dead on the field of battle ! 

“And we shall never see him again on this 
earth ! ” the mothers often said. Then they 
thanked God for the little chapel, where the 
Sorrowful Mother stretched out her arms to 
them. They could not see her, but her statue 
was there, and the serene face and the pitying 
eyes brought comfort to them. 

All the priests had gone to war except P&re 
Chalais. But he was a host in himself ; he con- 
soled, he comforted; he often secured hopeful 
news for those who thought they had no hope. 
Of course, all the summer tourists were gone, but 
the farm work and the fishing and all the other 
usual tasks must be carried on. What a differ- 
ence the war made ! No day came withoutterrible 
fears coming with it. When the sun rose, the 
women on the farm asked of what deaths they 
should hear that day. Some terribly wounded 


34 


THE ADVENTURERS 


men came back to die or to be useless for tbe rest 
of tbeir lives. In Germany, tbe same sorrows 
were felt. 

Vaucoubert bad been a little drummer boy in 
tbe French army of 1870 when tbe Germans took 
Paris. He was now too old to fight ; and be bad 
determined that be would not remain in France 
if be could not fight; and, when the telegrams 
from Captain de Value arrived, be insisted more 
and more that bis children should leave .as soon 
as possible. 

Vaucoubert was an old man. Everybody 
thought that be was a sensible man, — wise 
enough, except when it came to tbe qualities of 
bis voice. He still believed that be could sing, 
but much of bis voice bad gone long ago. What 
remained w T as spoiled by all kinds of trills and 
tremblings; though be could, when be forgot 
these, sing a simple little song very pleasantly. 
It was in tbe church that be liked “ to show off.” 
And Pere Chalais and bis people endured bis 
trillings, because Vaucoubert was good-natured 
and never said a bad word about anybody. 

Tbe day for tbe children to go to Dieppe 
arrived. 

“Madame la Brune,” Vaucoubert said, with 
bis grandest air, “ I can not fight for France; 


MAKING FBIENDS 


35 


therefore, I will leave my dear country and go, 
with Amelie and Bertrand, among the American 
red Indians until happier times. I will leave 
the children in the city of their uncle, where there 
are perhaps some civilized Frenchmen, and go 
farther to teach the red Indians. That shall be 
my mission when I have delivered the children to 
their protector. I have saved much money in my 
life; I will spend some, and give some to my 
nephew Guy.” 

P&re Chalais was doubtful of this plan. Vau- 
coubert had no experience as a traveller, and he 
was very fixed in his ideas. Nevertheless, Cap- 
tain de Value wrote that he approved of it. The 
port of sailing was not far, and the mobilization 
of the troops would not at present affect travel 
greatly in that part of France. 

He advised that the party should cross to Eng- 
land, and take the steamer at Liverpool. He 
forgot that Vaucoubert knew no English; but 
P&re Chalais remembered that Madame de Value 
had taught her daughter to speak English well, 
and Amelie was very intelligent and practical for 
her age. The boxes, trunks, and the important 
baggage had already been sent to Havre. Some 
necessary articles were packed in bags, and 
Amalie was allowed to take her precious dressing 


36 


THE ADVENTURESS 


case with her. This was a birthday present from 
her father, and she was very proud of the silver- 
backed brushes it held. 

They were off at last, — Vaucoubert in his thick 
blue jacket and heavy cap to match, with a big, 
well-corded box. The journey began favorably 
enough. Amelie and Bertrand forgot their 
sorrows in the movement of the train. There 
were soldiers at all the stations, and a constant 
succession of new things to see. They lunched 
comfortably at one o’clock. Madame la Brune 
had given them sandwiches and cake and hot 
coffee in a thermos bottle. Life seemed pleasant 
until it began to grow dark. 

All of a sudden the train stopped. Something 
had gone wrong with the locomotive, — “a hot 
box,” Vaucoubert said. All the passengers de- 
scended in the dark. 

“ Come ! ” cried Vaucoubert. “ There is a 
porter; he will take our luggage to the other 
train. Run ! it will soon start.” 

A stalwart porter in a blouse seized the bags, 
and all four ran as fast as they could; the 
children were pushed into a first-class compart- 
ment, but Vaucoubert could not follow them ; he 
was too slow. The luggage was pushed in after 
them, and AmSlie was delighted to have the 


MAKING FRIENDS 


37 


chance of throwing a franc to the faithful porter. 
She saw him pick it up, and take off his cap re- 
spectfully, as the train moved out. 

“ Oh,” she said, with a sigh, “ I know how it 
feels to he a grown-up young lady! I almost 
wish Yaucoubert would not come. I could then 
manage everything for you, Bertrand, and the 
people would call me ‘ Mademoiselle/ ” 

“ It would not be well,” said Bertrand. 

“ Why not? I have all the money sewed up in 
my blouse. Madame told me to give it to my 
marraine at Dieppe, and that she w T ould arrange 
it all for the voyage. Why not? ” 

“ Because it is not right that a little girl should 
manage when there is a man with her — or, at 
least, one who will be a man some day.” 

Am61ie laughed heartlessly. 

“Age counts now, Bertrand; besides, I can 
speak languages. I know English, and I can 
even say some Latin words. But where is 
Monsieur Yaucoubert? ” 

Yaucoubert was nowhere to be seen. 

“ He will find us at Dieppe,” Amalie said tran- 
quilly. “He must find us, since he has the 
address of my godmother in Dieppe, and of my 
uncle in America. He will turn up.” 

The children calmly went to sleep. When they 


38 


THE ADVENTURERS 


awoke, the rest of the compartment was occupied 
by a woman and three children. The electric 
light in the roof was carefully covered with silk, 
so that the passengers might sleep in peace. 
Even in the half light, Amelie could see that the 
woman looked tired. 

Her children, covered with rugs, lay about her. 
Amelie heard the woman sigh, and, true to her 
character, she became interested at once. 
Madame la Brune frequently complained that 
Amalie was not a French child at all: she was 
always minding other people’s business. Ber- 
trand, too, had often found fault with this 
peculiarity, which sometimes involved him in the 
work of looking after strange children who were 
lost, or who excited Amelie’s interest by weep- 
ing. 

The woman sighed again. 

“ You suffer, Madame? ” Am41ie asked in 
French. 

The woman took her hand from her eyes and 
looked at Amelie inquiringly, but she only shook 
her head. 

“ You suffer, Madame?” Am41ie repeated. 
Again the woman shook her head. 

“ I do not understand,” she said in English. 

“ I understand,” Am41ie answered. 


MAKING FRIENDS 


39 


“ And you speak English? 77 asked the woman, 
incredulously. “ Oh, I am so glad ! Then you 
can help me. I am wretched! But we must 
speak low. The children are asleep, and your 
little sister, too. 7 ’ 

“ My brother / 7 corrected Amalie, looking 
proudly at Bertrand, who was hidden in a 
steamer rug. 

“ Oh, I am so glad you spoke ! 77 The woman 
passed her hand over her hair, as if to apologize 
for her disarray. “ I am in such trouble ! I am 
an American married to an American citizen of 
German descent, arid I came over to Alsace to look 
after some property my husband had inherited. 
We thought it would be such a nice trip for the 
children, and I brought them . 77 

“ Three / 7 said Amelie, “ unless you have 
another one under the seat . 77 

“Four . 77 The woman began to cry. “Four. 
My little Alphonsus is lost . 77 

“ Lost ! 77 exclaimed Amelie, clutching Ber- 
trand^ shoulder. “ Oh, we, too, have lost Mon- 
sieur Vaucoubert! But he shall be found 
again . 77 

“Ah ! 77 the woman wailed, “my dear little 
Alphonsus is only four years of age . 77 

Amalie sat up very straight and listened. 


40 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ We were caught in the war/’ the woman con- 
tinued. “We found ourselves in the German 
lines. The soldiers at first thought we were En- 
glish; hut they were kind to the children; the 
honest soldiers gave them soup and bread. Then 
my passport and my trunk came. After that we 
fell among the French, and here we are. When 
I give my name, Mrs . i Schmidmeyer,’ the soldiers 
say that I am German, for they can not read my 
American passport. Perhaps I am a spy, they 
say. At Dieppe they would have held me 
I>risoner, but some kind Americans, Mr. and Mrs. 
Ellis, helped me to get on the train.” 

“ But surely we have not yet reached Dieppe? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; we passed it long ago ! ” 

“ Horrible ! ” said AmALie. “ My brother and I 
are lost, too. We were bound for Dieppe, and 
then for America.” 

“Where in America?” asked Mrs. Schmid- 
meyer, with interest. 

“ Oh, somewhere in America ! I do not know 
the address. Monsieur Vaucoubert, who takes 
care of us, has it.” 

“ You poor child.” 

“Why?” asked Amalie, calmly. “I have 
money, and a tongue in my head. I am sure 
Vaucoubert will turn up. At any rate, we can 


MAKING FRIENDS 


41 


get to America somehow, — of course I mean 
North America. Our great-uncle lives in Ohio 
or Iowa, or some place called like that.” 

“You poor child!” repeated Mrs. Schmid- 
meyer. 

“ Your own poor child,” said Amelie, — “ I 
think you’d better look for him.” 

“You are right! My poor little Phonse! A 
soldier helped us on the train — there was an 
awful crowd, — and then I lost sight of him, and 
I couldn’t make anybody understand.” She 
clasped her hands, and began to sob. 

Amelie pulled the rug over Bertrand ; she knew 
how she would feel if he were lost. 

“ Don’t cry, Mrs. Schmidmeyer,” she went on. 
“Just say your prayers and trust in his 
Guardian Angel and in me. I can speak French, 
you know.” 

Amelie’s voice was full of confidence. 

“ I can help the poor woman,” she said to her- 
self. “ I never failed in anything yet in my life, 
except in making omelettes. And what are 
guardian angels for if they can not take charge 
of those intrusted to them by the great, good 
God? — Have courage ! ” she spoke aloud. “ You 
must have some sandwiches, and we can put more 


42 


THE ADVENTURERS 


hot coffee in this big bottle. Don’t cry, please ! 
Take a sandwich.” 

“ Thank you, — thank you ! I can not eat,” 
said the poor mother. 

“Well, if I am to help you, I must eat,” 
observed Amelie, opening the box of sandwiches 
which had belonged to Vaucoubert and was as 
yet untouched. “There are many,” she said. 
“ Our friend has a good appetite , — le bon Vau- 
coubert! I know he will forgive us for eating 
his ham and chicken. There is enough for us all. 
Besides, I have half my own packed still.” 

The very look of Am41ie gave the poor woman 
courage. Amelie’s eyes were clear and brown, and 
they always looked straight at people. She was 
tall for her age, and thin ; but she moved as if she 
were of mixed steel and India rubber, and it 
was a proverb in her family that she always “ fell 
on her feet.” Her American mother had brought 
her up on much exercise and many cold water 
baths ; and, if Am41ie had too much confidence for 
a girl of her age, it must be admitted that she was 
afraid of nothing “ except mortal sin ” ; whereas 
Bertrand had many fears. For instance, he 
always saw lions and “ things ” in the dark. 


Ill 


THE SON OF A SOLDIER OF FRANCE 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer was glad to accept one of 
Vaucoubert’s sandwiches, so large that it seemed 
to have been cut with a hatchet. And presently 
the three children awoke. There was a boy of 
about fifteen, a little girl of ten, and another 
small boy of eight. Am61ie asked their names. 

“ Carl, Maria and Mark.” 

“ Well, Carl, Maria, and Mark, we will now 
eat.” 

The poor children were evidently hungry and 
Amalie, whom Madame la Brune had tried to 
govern with a heavy hand, was delighted to act 
as an untrammelled lady, a real giver of bread. 

The three children were shy at first. When 
little Maria asked for “’Phonse,” the whole 
family burst into tears. Their sobs awakened 
Bertrand. Amelie was very sorry. At the same 
time, the feeling of being free to manage the 
business of other people rather pleased her. 

“We shall find him,” she said confidently. 
“ See ! I have put away a large ham sandwich 
for him.” 


43 


44 


THE ADVENTURERS 


This announcement solaced the family grief 
for a while. Surely, if there were a ham sand- 
wich for Alphonsus, he must be alive and capable 
of eating. Even the mother was more hopeful. 

“You have lost your Alphonsus because you 
could not make yourself understood in the 
French language. If the whole world would 
speak the beautiful French language, we should 
all understand one another, and there would be 
no war,” said Amelie, decidedly. “ That is my 
opinion.” 

Bertrand looked with hostile intentions at 
Carl. He measured Carl’s strength with his eye. 
Carl doubled his fists. Of course, the first thing 
to be done to this French boy would be to punch 
his head, and he was ready. 

Amelie took little Maria into the toilet room 
and washed her face and smoothed her hair. It 
was better than playing with a doll. And the 
flaxen-haired Maria was glad to be looked after, 
— her mother having forgotten everything except 
the loss of Alphonsus. 

“ Ah, my poor brother ! ” cried Maria. “ The 
Germans told us that the French soldiers would 
cut off his arms and make sausages of them. 
They said that all children ” 

“ Nonsense, Maria ! ” interrupted Am61ie. 


THE SON OF A SOLDIER OF FRANCE 45 


“ You know that the arms of children would not 
make good sausages. That is very foolish.” 

The night wore on. The train stopped at sev- 
eral stations ; but Amelie saw no reason why she 
should get out to ask the way back to Dieppe. 
She felt safe anywhere in France, and it would 
be time enough to look after her own affairs when 
she had found Alphonsus Schmidmeyer. Shortly 
after dawn the train stopped at a small station 
crowded with soldiers. The passengers were 
asked to alight; the cars were needed for the 
troops. Amelie demanded of the guard how they 
could get to Dieppe. He was very polite, but he 
did not know. To Havre, then? There might be 
a train ; when, he did not know ; the service was 
entirely disarranged. 

“ Conduct me,” Amelie said with great dignity, 
" to the commander of the soldiers.” 

The guard looked doubtful ; Amelie had a franc 
piece ready. 

“ Come this way,” he said. 

Amelie adjusted her hat, asked Bertrand to 
come, ordered Mrs. Schmidmeyer to take charge 
of the luggage, and followed the guard to the 
railway station. On the bench against the wall 
were five or six officers. Their colonel was 
seated in the middle of the room, looking at a 


46 


THE ADVEETUBEES 


map. In the corner, covered by a blanket, was 
a mastiff and a small boy, both asleep. 

“ A young lady wants to see you,” announced 
the guard. 

“ Yes,” said Anielie, her eyes sparkling at the 
sight of the uniform. “ I am the young 
lady, and you must send me to my friends at 
Havre.” 

The colonel looked up, amused; the other 
officers smiled. Bertrand, who had a way of 
talking as if he were reciting from one of his be- 
loved prize books, said : 

“You laugh at a daughter of a soldier of 
France ! ” 

The officers on the bench were convulsed with 
laughter ; and, indeed, Bertrand, drawn up to his 
full height, uttering this reproach in a tragic 
voice, was amusing. 

“ And are you the son of a soldier of France? ” 
asked the colonel, twirling his mustache. 

“ A descendant of the Crusaders, sir, and the 
son of Captain de Value.” 

“ La ! la ! ” exclaimed the colonel. “ You are 
fierce, young man ! You should not try to fight 
us other poor soldiers of France. I know your 
father, and I have often heard the great Vaucou- 
bert sing at Mass.” And he laughed. 


THE SON OF A SOLDIER OF FRANCE 47 

a We have lost Vaucoubert. He has ceased 
to be under our protection.” 

All the officers rose and bowed ; it was a bit 
of comedy after their long night march. 

Bertrand bowed, too. He was quite at home 
with soldiers. 

“ So you want to go to Havre? You are not 
entirely alone ? ” asked the colonel. “ How many 
of you are there? ” 

Before Amelie could answer, the child in the 
blanket uttered a cry. Amelie turned her head. 

“ There is a lost child? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the colonel. “ Its mother 
can not be found. The dog also is lost.” 

“ Phonse, — Alphonsus ! ^ called Amelie. 

The child jumped from under the blanket and 
ran to her. 

“ There are seven of us, Monsieur le Colonel,” 
said Amffiie. “ This child is also of our party, — 
his mother goes with us.” 

“ There is an older woman with you, then? ” 

The colonel was much relieved. He had been 
worried at the thought of the children of his 
comrade, Captain de Value, wandering through 
the country, unprotected, in these troubled times. 

“ Chicon,” he said, “you will find room in the 
big automobile for these people. The packages 


48 


THE ADVENTURERS 


and the dispatches ought to go to Havre 
to-day.” 

Chicon, a young lieutenant, rose and saluted. 
The small child clung to Amalie’s hand. The 
friendly voice and the English speech had at- 
tracted him. 

“ Is there anything else we can do for you? ” 
asked the colonel. “ I am glad that you have a 
good woman to take care of you. What is her 
name? ” 

Amelie was too discreet to utter a German 
name. Bertrand began : 

“ Madame ” 

“ It is hard for us French to pronounce,” in- 
terrupted Amelie. “ She is an American.” 

“ That is well,” answered the colonel. “ And, 
Chicon, see that there is some milk added for 
your passengers; and take this young lady and 
her brother, with the child, to the worthy woman 
who awaits them. I will report the matter to 
Captain de Value.” 

The little Alphonsus held tight to Amalie’s 
hand. They found Mrs. Schmidmeyer waiting 
anxiously. She might well be anxious. There 
appeared to be no other train ; she could not make 
herself understood, and she was desperately 
afraid that she might be detained as a German. 


THE SON OF A SOLDIER OF FRANCE 49 


But lier joy was great when Amelie appeared 
with the little boy. She could see nothing after 
that but her own dear child. Bertrand rubbed 
his eyes, and the Schmidmeyer children shouted 
with joy. 

“ The Americans,” said Amalie, loudly, “ are 
very fond of their children.” 

“ The Aanericans adore their children ! ” re- 
peated Bertrand. 

The soldiers showed great interest. 

“ They are Americans? La ! la ! la ! ” said the 
soldiers. 

Amelie felt that she had made her point. 
Now, at least, there would be no question of her 
party being Germanic. 

The big automobile drew near ; it was grey and 
grim. Chicon, in his neat uniform, took his 
place, accompanied by a soldier ; two other 
soldiers mounted at the back, and the party 
started. Alphonsus, the recovered treasure, be- 
gan to weep; he tried to wriggle out of his 
mother’s arms. He wanted to go to Bebe, the big 
dog, that stood yelping in a sad way. 

“ B6b6, Bebe ! ” cried Alphonsus. 

“ The American child has a good heart,” Chi- 
con said, “ but we can not take the dog.” 

Alphonsus was inconsolable. 


50 


THE ADVENTURERS 


The drive was not especially interesting. 
They rushed through the air. Poplar trees, farm- 
houses, church spires seemed to whiz past them. 
Mrs. Schmidmeyer had no eyes except for her 
newly recovered child. The other children were 
very sleepy; and Amelie, who was tired herself, 
listened patiently to Bertrand’s imaginary 
stories of how they would find their father at 
Havre, and how they would greet him, and how 
pleased he would be to see them looking after 
these poor Americans. Bertrand assumed great 
airs of protectorship, and he made the soldiers 
laugh. 

“ If my father were general in the army,” he 
announced, “he would make the enemy fly. 
When you see my father in his uniform, you are 
almost afraid; but, then, when you know him, 
you don’t feel that way.” 

Carl Schmidmeyer, the eldest of the Americans, 
was very silent. He did not understand the 
lively prattle of Bertrand, or why roars of 
laughter should follow his speeches. He and 
Amalie exchanged a few words ; but Carl was in- 
clined to think that Amalie was too self- 
opinionated for a girl. He had discovered that 
she was a year younger than himself. Besides, 
she was French, and Carl’s German grandmother 


THE SON OP A SOLDIER OF FRANCE 51 


had filled his mind with stories of the great 
German Fatherland. When Amelie said one or 
two things about the soldiers of France and the 
splendor of their military achievements, Carl 
made a sharp reply. 

“ You forget,” said Amelie, with dignity, “ that 
you are protected by French soldiers.” 

“ I do not forget the country of my father.” 

“ Then,” responded Amelie, “ remain Ameri- 
can.” 

Carl’s ruddy face flushed to the roots of his 
blond hair. 

“You are not much of an American!” he 
said. 

“ I am not American.” 

66 Your mother was.” 

“ That does not make me American.” 

“ Why not? ” exclaimed Carl. “ Why not? 
/ should be ashamed to be anything else.” 

“ You talk like a German, and yet declare that 
you are an American ! You must be one or the 
other. I am French because my father is 
French. When my mother married a French- 
man she ceased to be an American.” 

“ How terrible ! ” 

“ It is always so. If I should ever marry — as 
I will not,” said Ani61ie, calmly, “ for there will 


62 


THE ADVENTURERS 


be nobody to marry but Americans where I am 
going, — I should be an American.” 

“Is that the law?” asked Carl. Then he 
colored from annoyance. Think of asking for 
information from a little French girl ! “ Oh,” 

he went on hastily, “ I suppose I knew, but I 
must have forgotten ! Is that the law? ” 

“ My mother said that it is the law. I may 
remain years in America; Bertrand may even 
grow up there; but when my time comes to 
choose an American husband I shall not do it; 
I will become a Mother Superior of a convent. 
I shall always be French.” 

Carl was awed by this. Amelie had the air of 
knowing her own mind. He pondered for some 
time in silence over the statement, and felt very 
thankful that he could never become a French- 
man by marrying anybody. 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer was so rejoiced at the re- 
turn of Alphonsus that she could find no words 
to express herself. She could only press Amalie’s 
hand from time to time and say : 

“ I will be a mother to you, my dear ! You 
have given me back my child.” 

Amelie could not understand why she said 
this. She could not see why Mrs. Schmidmeyer 
should thank her merely for finding Alphonsus. 


THE SON OF A SOLDIER OF FRANCE 53 


It Lad been easy; anybody might Lave found 
him. 

After a while Carl began to grow anxious. He 
told Amelie that they might run into a wire fence 
at any time. The Germans had put up wire 
fences, into which the automobile might crash. 
The barbs would cut the tires, and their jour- 
ney would end. He himself had seen their wire 
fences. He had even seen an aeroplane, and the 
soldiers had told him that bombs had fallen from 
it. It was a French aeroplane ; when it appeared, 
all the people had gone into their cellars. 

“ It is the only way,” Carl said. “ If a Zep- 
pelin or an aeroplane should appear, we must 
get out of the automobile and make for a cellar. 
We saw many terrible things as we came on, — 
houses without roofs and dead horses. But a 
girl should not hear of these things.” 

“ If my father is in the war and sees them, I 
am not afraid of hearing about them,” said 
Amelie. “ Oh, I know how terrible war is ! No- 
body can tell me.” 

“ I could tell you.” 

Carl thought of some of the awful sights he 
had seen, and shuddered. He had loved the 
sound of the drum, the flash of the swords, and 
the waving of the plumes. What a joy it had 


54 


THE ADVENTURERS 


been to see a regiment passing to the sound of 
one of Sousa’s marches, to see the flags waving 
in the sunlight, to see the beautiful movements of 
a thousand men — all as one ! How fine the life 
had seemed to him! But now it did not seem 
so fine ; he had seen too much on his way from the 
Fatherland. He was glad that he was an Ameri- 
can and at peace. 

“ But if your country had to fight, you would 
fight,” said Amelie. 

“ I pray that my country may not have to fight. 
Until it must fight, I will not think of it. And, 
if I am once able to take my mother and the 
children home in safety, I shall be happy.” 

Amelie looked at Carl’s round face with new 
interest. “ He is not afraid,” she said to herself, 
“ but he does not, like me, come of a family of 
soldiers.” 


IV 


AN UNEXPECTED TELEGRAM 

At last Havre was reached. There had been 
alarms; the automobile was stopped several 
times. Am&Lie did all the talking, and the party 
was at last deposited at the hotel named by 
Madame la Brune. The escort drew off, with 
many compliments to the brave young soldier, 
“ Capitaine Bertrand,” who had, by his serious 
belief in himself, amused them very much. 
When the precious Alphonsus had been put to 
bed, Mrs. Schmidmeyer tried to make everybody 
comfortable. And, after a short time, spent in 
nervous restlessness occasioned by the long voy- 
age, there was silence. It was understood that 
“ La Lune ” would sail in two days. 

“ Two days left in France ! Only two days ! ” 

Amalie went to sleep with tears in her eyes. 
How she loved her dear country! How she 
longed to see it in daylight again ! She dreamed 
that her father had kissed her and said good- 
night. She awoke in the darkness; she could 
hear the clock on the marble mantelpiece sound- 
55 


56 


THE ADVENTURERS 


ing the hour of one. No, he was not there; she 
might never see him again. ITow terrible the 
ocean seemed ! And yet there was a good God, 
and His Mother in heaven, and her mother. 
Yes, she knew that they heard her prayer. If 
God willed it, even the ocean could not keep her 
from her father. 

In Havre, Mrs. Schmidmeyer became more 
conscious than ever of her German name. 
Fortunately, her passport was in good order; 
otherwise, she would have been put down as a 
German subject. War is cruel at the best; and 
the innocent, simply because of their names, are 
often made to suffer. “ Schmidmeyer, to the 
authorities at Havre, stamped this anxious 
woman and her children as the enemies of 
France. 

Once or twice, when she spoke English in the 
street (it was necessary to do a little shopping), 
she was accused of speaking German, as she had 
been blamed for speaking English in Germany. 
Amelie was quite ready with her explanation, 
however; and Bertrand invariably added: 

“ These Americans are protected by a son of a 
soldier of France.” 

In CarTs opinion, Bertrand was a nuisance, 
especially as he occasionally put on airs and 


AN UNEXPECTED TELEGRAM 


57 


people seemed either touched by his speeches or 
amused. Happily, Carl could not understand 
them. He would no doubt have objected to being 
“ protected” by a small boy. If Amelie had 
been easily frightened, she would have been 
kept in a state of terror by the stories she 
heard. 

All steamers were crossing the Atlantic with- 
out lights, so great was the fear that German 
cruisers would capture them. But, on the other 
hand, she was assured that the English ruled the 
seas, and that all French vessels were safe. 
Then there were mines. “ Oh, yes,” the hotel- 
keeper said, “ there are the mines ! But in time 
of war there must always be mines, and one must 
take chances. German submarines might even 
come to Havre, — who knows? ” The porter 
audibly pitied the poor children obliged to face 
the horrors of the deep. 

“ For my part,” he said, “ I could endure the 
thoughts of mines, but I fear the sharks. The 
American coast is infested by man-eating sharks 
and alligators. And, inland, there are tigers.” 

This speech was translated for Carl. He only 
jeered. 

“ And the terrible sky-scrapers.” 

Amelie translated for the porter, who stood hat 


68 


THE ADVENTURERS 


in hand, very politely waiting to see the effect of 
his speeches on the young people. 

“ Yes,” said Carl, scornfully, “ big birds that 
scrape the sky.” 

Amelie dutifully translated this. 

“ How horrible ! ” said the porter. 

“ He’s a fool ! ” exclaimed Carl, angrily, turn- 
ing his back. 

Amelie did not translate this. 

“No,” she said, “he is not a fool. Because 
you can not explain things to him in his own 
tongue, do not call him a fool. I do not know 
what you mean by sky-scrapers, unless they are 
birds.” 

“Oh, everybody ought to know what a sky- 
scraper is ! ” Carl said scornfully. 

Vaucoubert did not turn up, though the people 
at the hotel were expecting him ; nor did Madame 
la Brune come to see the children off. There 
was a telegram at the hotel, sent from Dieppe; 
it announced that her daughter Louise was dying, 
and that she could not leave her. It was evident 
that Madame la Brune believed that Vaucoubert 
was with the children. 

The day of the sailing of “La Lune” came. 
The steamboat tickets for Vaucoubert and the De 
Values had been bought; their luggage checks 


AN UNEXPECTED TELEGBAM 


59 


awaited them. Now came Mrs. Schmidmeyer’s 
chance to repay part of her obligation to Amelie. 
She did everything she could to make them com- 
fortable. She had a stateroom arranged for 
Amelie next to her own. 

Bertrand, who might have been lonely, was put 
into the room with the Schmidmeyer boys; and 
Amalie, now a little frightened by the novelty of 
the situation, was very grateful. Mrs. Schmid- 
meyer was rather annoyed to find that the 
children’s tickets were for New York only. She 
hoped that the railway tickets had been taken, 
too. She consoled herself with the belief that 
their uncle’s address would be found on their 
trunks and boxes. She asked the deck steward, 
and he promised to make inquiries. 

“ I beg pardon, ma’am,” he said, “ but it is a 
mistake. The De Values’ trunks have gone off 
on 1 Le Soleil,’ which has already sailed. It is 
all right, ma’am. You’ll find them in New 
York.” 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer was obliged to content her- 
self with this ; but she was greatly worried. At 
the same time she consoled herself by thinking 
that the children would be met by somebody in 
New York, or that the address on the boxes in 
“ Le Soleil ” might settle it. 


60 


THE ADVENTURERS 


The party were ascending the gangway. The 
band was playing. Mrs. Schmidmeyer was in 
advance, with Bertrand and her own children. 
Am61ie, with her precious box, had stopped to 
buy some bunches of autmnn flowers from a little 
boy. She listened while the boy told her that his 
father had just returned wounded, and that he 
must sell flowers to buy bread. Amalie, inter- 
ested as usual in other people, heard the last gong 
sound. She hurried away to ascend the steps, 
when the porter from the hotel rushed forward 
and placed a telegram in her hand. She read : 

“ Your father wounded at Senlis. I will care 
for him. He sends his blessing. — Vaucoubert.” 

For the moment everything became black about 
her. She heard Mrs. Schmidmeyer calling from 
the deck of “ La Lune ” : 

“ Come ! The steamer will leave in an in- 
stant ! ” 

And then she heard nothing. 

When she saw and heard again, she was lying 
against a bag of grain on the dock, and the 
porter was fanning her with his cap. She could 
hardly speak. 

“ Go,” she said to the porter , — u go, for the 
sake of the good God! Go and bring Bertrand, 
my brother, back. I can not say more. Oh, it 


AN UNEXPECTED TELEGEAM 


61 


is terrible ! Go, bring biin to me ! He must not 
leave. We must go to our father.” 

She heard nothing, saw nothing. Again there 
was a blank. She knew only that she was in a 
cool, gloomy space, alone. When her senses 
were restored, she found herself in the arms of a 
kindly woman. The sea breeze blew on her face, 
but she felt very weak. The telegram was still 
clutched in her hand. The porter was beside 
her, and near him was the small boy, with the 
bunches of dahlias and blue asters. 

“ Do you bring Bertrand? ” 

“ No,” said the porter, — he pointed hopelessly 
to the sea. “ I reached the deck, but the officer 
turned me back. I could only say, ‘ Tell Ber- 
trand de Value to write to Senlis, if he can 
write ’ ; then I was obliged to descend. I was 
pushed down by the great crowd.” 

Amelie was appalled by the magnitude of this 
misfortune. Then she recovered herself. 

“ Thank God for that ! ” she said at last. 
“ Bertrand is in good hands, and I am now free 
to help my father.” 

The porter and the good market woman and 
the boy with the dahlias looked very solemn. 

“ I did my best,” said the porter. 

“ I know,” answered Amelie. “ Now take me 


62 


THE ADVENTURESS 


back to tlie hotel. I must do my best. Ah, pool* 
father ! ” 

The porter put his cap up before his face, the 
market woman wiped her eyes with her apron, 
and the boy wept above his flowers. Amelie 
suddenly recovered her sense of “ deportment.” 

“ Porter,” she said, “ buy all these flowers for 
me, and give them to the good woman, with my 
thanks. And now help me to the hotel.” 

The porter, much moved, gave the great bunch 
of flowers to the market woman, who kissed them, 
saying : 

“I will give them to my granddaughters, — 
dear little ones, who also have a father in the 
war ! ” 

Back in the room at the hotel, Amelie sent for 
some luncheon, having first said her prayers. 
Then she went to bed, and slept. 

“P&re Chalais has always said: ‘When you 
have eaten and slept, then think/ ” 

And she obeyed this wise precept. 

* * * * * * 

On board “ La Lune ” there was consternation 
when Mrs. Schmidmeyer made known the fact 
that Amelie had been left behind. When Amelie 
had fainted, the porter and the market woman 
had carried her to the pile of grain bags, out of 


AN UNEXPECTED TELEGRAM 


63 


sight of anybody on the deck of the steamer. 
Then the porter had barely time to leave his 
message and to get ashore before “La Lune ” 
started. The captain was very much concerned, 
but he could do nothing, as he had been so busy 
that Mrs. Schmidmeyer could not see him until 
the ship was well under way. After all, the 
child was at home in France, and her people 
would probably send her over on the next voyage 
of “ La Lune.” 

Bertrand was most unhappy when he realized 
that Amelie had remained at home. He had 
never before been among strangers, and he had 
always been very dependent on Amelie, in spite 
of his proud boasts of independence. All of a 
sudden he felt that he was deprived of her sup- 
port, of Madame la Brune’s assistance, of P&re 
Chalais’ direction, and of his father’s protection. 
He stood on the deck, a desolate boy indeed. He 
was told that Amelie had stayed at home, because 
she wanted to go back to her father; a telegram 
had determined her to go to seek him at Senlis. 
This did not at all comfort him. She was gone, 
— that was enough; and he was left with these 
strange Americans, whose language he could not 
understand. 

Captain Grandcourt assured him that, if a 


64 


THE ADVENTURESS 


cable asking for him reached New York, he might 
return to France, and Bertrand hoped that there 
would be such a cable. He stood on deck for a 
while, trying to look like the son of a Crusader, 
and of a French soldier; but he could not long 
endure the strain. He rushed down to his berth, 
and, with his head under the bedclothes, sobbed 
and groaned without restraint. His loneliness 
was unbearable. He seemed to be deserted by 
the world, — his own beloved world, — the world 
he knew. He heard the door of the stateroom 
open; it was Carl, no doubt! What was Carl 
to him? Why should he care for Carl? He 
buried his face deeper, and wept more unre- 
strainedly. 

“ Ah, dear child ! ” said a soft voice, speaking 
in French. “ Ho not cry! Any boy would 
suffer, even the bravest, — and you are brave, I 
know. I hear that your wicked sister ran away 
and left you.” 

Bertrand raised his head; he did not look at 
the speaker. 

“ Go away, Madame or Mademoiselle ! ” he said 
in a choking voice. “ You are not needed here. 
My sister, Mademoiselle Amelie de Value, is not 
wicked.” 

“ Then,” asked the soft voice, evidently satis- 


AH UNEXPECTED TELEGEAM 


65 


fled with the effect it had produced, “why did 
she run away? ” 

“ Excuse my impoliteness, Madame or Made- 
moiselle; hut is it your affair? ” 

“ I am Madame Simon. If thou wilt tell me 
why thy sister ran away, I shall perhaps not 
think that she is wicked.” 

“ I am not 1 thou ’ to you, when I do not know 
you,” replied Bertrand, growing angry. “You 
are impolite to address me as ‘ thou.’ ” 

“ I excuse myself. Will Monsieur he so kind 
as to tell a fellow-passenger why Mademoiselle 
his sister ran away? Mademoiselle must be 
wicked to flee from her dear little brother.” 

Bertrand straightened, and sat up on the side 
of the berth, facing the stranger. He had been 
told never to speak to strangers, beyond answer- 
ing ordinary questions ; he had been warned not 
to accept overtures of friendship from persons 
unknown to his friends ; but here was a woman 
asserting that the beloved Amelie was wicked! 
She must be answered. The woman who stood 
in the stateroom had blue eyes and very golden 
hair; a soft white silk dress fell about her; she 
had no hat, and her golden hair was, in Ber- 
trand’s opinion, very beautiful. She held in her 
hand a large bunch of black grapes. 


66 


THE ADVENTUREBS 


“ I thought that perhaps you would like 
these? ” 

“ I do not care to eat, Madame.” 

“ Pardon me ! ” she said. “ I have intruded. 
But I thought I heard — a man groaning.” 

Bertrand was appeased. 

“ It was I,” he said. “ My sister has gone to 
my father, who is a soldier of France, at Senlis.” 

“ And you? ” 

Bertrand hesitated. Surely there could be no 
harm in telling anything to this lady, with the 
golden hair on her head and the grapes in her 
hand. Still, he hesitated; he had been told so 
often not to talk about his affairs to strangers. 

“ I am alone, except for the kind woman who 
takes care of me,” he answered impulsively. 
“ Madame Schmidmeyer will conduct me to my 
relative in America.” 

“ Where? ” 

“ I do not know. We shall know when we 
arrive.” 

The woman looked at him curiously; he was 
a slim, graceful boy, with something very attrac- 
tive in his face when he was interested. 

“ Alone? ” she said thoughtfully. “ Well, 
good-bye! I will leave you. To-morrow my 
husband will teach you to play shuffteboard or 


AN UNEXPECTED TELEGRAM 67 

quoits on the deck. You will have a pleasant 
time during the voyage, I am sure.” 

“ A nice lady ! ” Bertrand thought, when she 
had gone. “ There can be no harm in telling her 
about myself, though Madame la Brune would 
not have liked it.” 

He forgot his grief in trying to write a long- 
letter to Amelie with his new fountain pen. It 
was like talking to her. And when he had half 
finished the letter, he felt much better. After 
all, the voyage could not last forever. Amelie 
would join him in America; and perhaps his 
father, having set the German army to flight, 
would himself come over to see the new country, 
and to protect its unhappy inhabitants from the 
red Indians. 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer was most kind to Bertrand ; 
he got on very well with the three small children, 
too ; but between him and Carl was a perpetual 
feud. He picked up a few words of English, and 
he soon understood some of the words Carl 
applied to him. 

“ Ivory top ! ” Carl called out, when Bertrand 
failed to score in a game of baseball on deck. 
“ You’ve got molasses in your arms for muscles.” 

Madame Simon kindly translated these phrases 
for Bertrand; and they hurt him. It must be 


68 


THE ADVENTURERS 


admitted that Carl was rough. Bertrand, ac- 
companied by Madame Simon, sometimes sang in 
the afternoons just before dinner. He had a 
very sweet voice, with a note of pathos in it that 
made the ladies cry. He could dance, too; he 
knew Scotch reels and the minuet and some 
Russian dances ; he was not bad at shufdeboard 
and quoits. 

One afternoon, when Bertrand had finished 
a song, and then, with much grace and fire, re- 
cited a passage from Racine, Mrs. Schmidmeyer 
tried to induce Carl to recite “ Curfew ” or 
“ Der Erlkonig.” 

“ Begin, Carl,” she said. “ You used to know 
it,— 

“ Wer reidet so spat durch Nacht und Wind, 

Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind.” 

“ I haven’t any parlor tricks,” answered Carl. 
“ I’m not a monkey, like Bertrand.” 

“Carl” (his mother was angry), “I forbid 
you to talk that way ! When one person speaks 
of another in that manner, it shows that he is 
envious and jealous.” 

Carl’s face flushed. 

“ What ! Envious of a little French whipper- 
snapper like that? ” 


AN UNEXPECTED TELEGRAM 


69 


“ Yes. In this world, evil-speaking is always 
the result of envy. Examine your conscience 
and you will find that out. This orphan hoy 
does some things that you can not do well ; you 
do things that he can not do; he content to 
admire him. I will not punish you ; I leave you 
to your conscience.” 


V 


BERTRAND'S ARRIVAL IN AMERICA 

Having been scolded by his mother, Carl 
stalked off, to sit in a corner on the deck and look 
sulky; but he was forced to admit in his own 
heart that he had been wrong. It was too late 
to amend the harm he had done; Bertrand dis- 
liked him and avoided him, taking refuge with 
the Simons. Mr. Simon was a tall, thin man, 
with a heavy mustache, who spoke French with 
an accent of the South. His eyes were shifty; 
he never looked anybody in the face, and he could 
not talk even to a stranger without putting his 
hand caressingly on that person’s arm. Ber- 
trand thought he was very kind, and, though he 
was polite to the Schmidmeyers, he was always 
in the company of the Simons. The boy had been 
taught not to laugh at other people. His father 
had said many times: “It is unworthy of a 
gentleman to laugh at his friends behind their 
backs.” 1ST ow, Mrs. Schmidmeyer was his friend, 
— he knew that; and yet, whenever Madame 
Simon made fun of her simple ways, Bertrand 
* 70 


BERTRAND’S ARRIVAL IN AMERICA 71 


laughed. From the first, the Simons tried to 
make Bertrand despise the Schmidmeyers. 
Captain Grandcourt shook his head; “If that 
boy’s papers were not in such good order, I 
should take him back to France; I do not like 
those Simons.” 

Madame Simon would point out some mistake 
in manners at the table : “ Carl Schmidmeyer 
makes a noise when he eats his soup. It is easily 
seen that he is of a low family.” Then Bertrand 
would smile. Or : “ Madame Schmidmeyer has 
never eaten an artichoke before. See! She is 
chewing the leaves as a hare nibbles at cabbage. 
She does not dip the soft end in the sauce as 
polite people do ! ” 

As Bertrand was placed next to Madame 
Simon at the table (she had contrived that her- 
self), this kind of talk was heard by him very 
often. 

Bertrand gradually avoided the Schmidmeyers. 
Their kind mother was deeply hurt. It depressed 
her to see that the little French boy laughed at 
her and her children. Her distrust of the 
Simons was increased when one day the captain 
said to her : 

“ I advise you not to let the young Bertrand 
de Value be so much in company w r ith those 


THE ADVENTURERS 


r <2 

Simons. I know nothing about them, though 
they have crossed several times with theatrical 
troupes on my boat. I suspect they are people 
without character ; I know they borrowed 
money from people and that they did not pay. 
I have telegrams from Havre, — wishes, — assur- 
ing me that the boy will be safe with you, until 
his uncle meets him ; otherwise, I should detain 
him at Ellis Island, and have him sent back.” 

Further than this Captain Grandcourt would 
not go. 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer begged Carl to be especially 
kind to Bertrand, and she spoke to some other 
American boys; but there was the barrier of 
languages, and the Simons had flattered Ber- 
trand so greatly that he looked down on Carl. 
He found Mr. and Madame Simon more delight- 
ful than anybody else, because they told him only 
pleasant things. Many times Madame Simon 
remarked : “ I wish you were my son, you are so 
clever and so handsome. How beautifully you 
speak that fable from La Fontaine, the Fox and 
the Crow!” Bertrand imagined that he loved 
the Simons. He did not love them ; he loved the 
flattery they gave him. 

The voyage wore on. “La Lune” was not 
stopped ; it did not touch a mine, though one was 


BERTRAND’S ARRIVAL IK AMERICA 73 


drawn up by the crew. Bertrand was not sick 
even for a single day, though the whole Schmid- 
rneyer family went below for forty-eight hours, — 
thus missing the sight of an iceberg and a whale. 

The little Schmidineyers were, however, con- 
soled by some porpoises, and delighted by a 
wonderful rainbow. The passengers craved for 
more news of the war than even the wireless could 
give. There was music in the salon at night, in 
which Bertrand took part; and the most delicious 
things to eat, — ices every day, if you wanted 
them. To Bertrand, brought up to eat cakes 
and ices only on birthdays and other great fes- 
tivals, this was a paradise. 

At last the voyage was nearly over. “La 
Lune ” passed the Statue of Liberty. Bertrand 
took off his hat and said : 

“ A gift of France ! ” 

The captain had more news from Madame la 
Brune ; he was reassured. Besides, Mrs. Schmid- 
meyer made the proper affidavit ; — he could 
always find her. Mr. Schmidmeyer was well 
known at the office of the steamship company. 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer began to grow more and 
more anxious. She felt the responsibility of hav- 
ing to take care of Bertrand. Suppose nobody 
should meet the boy on the wharf? What could 


74 


THE ADVENTURERS 


she do? Of course she might reach Captain de 
Value by cable ; but who could be sure of that, in 
these troubled times? She could not think of 
letting Bertrand be sent back. Besides, she 
could always find Captain Grandcourt. 

Bertrand had been very liberal in tipping the 
stewards and waiters; forAmelie had pinned five 
hundred francs to the inside of his jacket before 
he left the hotel. She had sagely said to herself 
that she would not put all her eggs in one basket, 
so she had divided the thousand francs she 
carried in her blouse. As soon as the Simons 
discovered that Bertrand had money, they 
promptly borrowed what was left when he had 
distributed his fees. 

The great steamer went slowly into its dock. 
Bertrand stood with the Schmidmeyers near the 
rails. Captain Grandcourt came and shook 
hands with them. “ If there is any trouble, I 
will take Bertrand back,” he said, “ unless this 
should be the last boat.” 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer hoped that a cablegram 
might come from Vaucoubert or De Value, and 
one arrived. This was from Captain de Value 
to Mrs. Schmidmeyer: “Keep Bertrand with 
you until his uncle comes. Do not send him 
back.” 


BERTRAND’S ARRIVAL IN AMERICA 75 

Bertrand was absorbed in the interesting sight 
of the waiting crowd. He held his bag in one 
hand, and kept one foot on his pigskin box. 

Suddenly Mrs. Schmidmeyer and Carl gave out 
a call of delight. The gangway was down, and 
a tall, yellow-whiskered man began to ascend; 
his face beamed. 

“ Father ! ” exclaimed Carl. 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer and the children made a 
rush toward him; he was in the act of showing 
the paper he held, which was a special permit 
from the French Consul. During the delay the 
passengers began to land, — the Custom House 
officers having already held their consultation 
with them in the dining-room. Mr. Schmid- 
meyer continued to walk up the gangway, with 
his family’s attention fixed on him. 

Bertrand stood on the outside of the happy 
groups that surrounded him, as he reached the 
deck, — feeling lonely and forgotten. All the 
preliminaries were finished, and the Schmid- 
meyers, followed by Bertrand, reached the pier. 

“ Come,” said Madame Simon, softly, — “ come, 
Bertrand, — come with us. Leave these bar- 
barians.” 

Bertrand hastily picked up his box and fol- 
lowed Madame Simon. He obeyed his first 


76 


THE ADVENTURERS 


impulse. A moment later he regretted Ms action. 
Wliat would Amelie say? It was ungrateful to 
desert the kind Mrs. Schmidmeyer in this way, 
and the little children had been kind to him. Of 
late, Carl, too, had been fairly nice. It was too 
late to run back, — too late, — that is, he was 
afraid of the laughter of Madame Simon. Those 
who laugh at others fear most to be laughed at. 
The tables can always be turned, if one cares to 
do it. Rather than be laughed at, Bertrand 
stifled his sense of decency and gratitude. He 
allowed Madame Simon to push him before her, 
through the crowd, on the pier. 

He passed the happy Mr. Schmidmeyer, and 
thought that he had such a nice face. He was 
almost inclined to drop his bag and seize the hand 
of this kind-looking man. But, then, the Simons 
might laugh. Many times later he wished with 
all his heart that he had done the right thing, 
and let them laugh. Laughter soon passes, but 
the disregard of laughter for the sake of doing 
right gives constant contentment. 

The Simons rushed to where their trunks were 
piled up under the letter “ S.” Mrs. Simon gave 
all her keys to the inspector, who opened and 
examined Bertrand’s baggage, too; and by the 
time Mr. Simon returned, the way was clear. 


BERTRAND’S ARRIVAL IN AMERICA 77 


Bertrand followed the Simons to a taxi-cab ; and 
in a few minutes lie was whirling up the most 
magnificent street in the world — Fifth Avenue. 
You may talk of “ Unter den Linden/’ or the 
“ Avenue de Y Opera ” ; but “ Fifth Avenue ” is 
the grandest of all ! 

When Mrs. Schmidmeyer turned to look for 
Bertrand, it was too late. Then she reproved 
herself for, in her joy, forgetting him. 

Madame Simon told him he was stupid when 
he said he had thought that these wonderful sky- 
scrapers were birds. He had never seen any- 
thing so wonderful in his life as this glimpse of 
the magnificent city of New York, except once 
when he had been in Paris for a day or two. 

The Simons were too busy now with their own 
conversation to take much notice of Bertrand. 
The taxi-cab turned into a side street. Bertrand 
looked up at Mr. Simon, and asked : 

“ What can I do here in this big city? ” 

He felt lonely for the moment. 

“ Earn your living ! ” Mr. Simon responded, 
with a sarcastic laugh. “ That’s what we 
brought you here for.” 

Madame Simon echoed the laugh. 

“ Yes, you must work hard,” she said. 

“ Boys who eat must work.” 


78 


THE ADVENTURERS 


Bertrand did not like lier tone; it sounded 
unusual, and lie looked sulky. 

“ Why do you laugh at me, Madame? I must 
learn English in order to be useful here, is it not 
so? ” 

“ It is not so. You need not know English 
in order to sing and dance.” 

“ But that is not to work.” 

“ For you it will be work — but here we are ! ” 

The vehicle stopped before a high, dingy-look' 
ing apartment house. Bertrand’s spirits sank. 
Should he be expected to live in this gloomy 
place? A man in his shirt sleeves came out of 
the house and helped to carry in the trunks. He 
took Bertrand’s bag and box rather roughly. 
Bertrand, accustomed to the amiable conduct of 
French servants, looked up at Madame Simon in 
surprise. 

“ You’re in America now. Everybody’s equal. 
There is no use of your talking about being a 
soldier of France over here.” 

And she laughed jeeringly. 

Bertrand was shown into a little room very 
badly furnished. 

“You can stay here until we send for you,” 
Mr. Simon said briefly. 

Bertrand wondered whether he had done 


BERTRAND’S ARRIVAL IN AMERICA 79 

anything wrong, to deserve this change of man- 
ner. 

Bertrand began a dreary existence in the 
gloomy little room. He was no longer petted by 
the Simons. They feared that the police would 
find them; they kept Bertrand in hiding. He 
could only look out on the crowded street. It 
was a mean street, where ash barrels stood, and 
peddlers yelled and children screamed. In the 
evening the street seemed alive with talking 
people; the stoops were crowded, but Bertrand 
was not allowed to play with anybody. 

“ We shall go to Montreal as soon as the season 
opens,” Madame Simon said, on the Sunday 
morning after their arrival in New York. “ You 
are to play the little Prince in the operetta my 
husband has written. We shall go to the cos- 
tumer this morning.” 

“ I will go to church,” said Bertrand, firmly. 
He had become angry in his heart with these 
people, and he despised himself for having 
allowed them to deceive him. As he had no 
money, he could not run away, though he was 
determined to do so as soon as a chance came. 

“ You will not go to church,” Madame Simon 
said viciously. “ Church is not for poor boys 
who must earn what they eat.” 


80 


THE ADVENTURERS 


Bertrand looked Madame Simon straight in 
her eyes. 

“ Do not think that I fear you or your husband. 
I have been too well brought up for that/ 7 he 
said slowly. “ Besides, I am a son of a soldier 
of France.” 

“ Oh, la ! la ! ” Mr. Simon broke into mocking 
laughter. He sat, unshaven, at the breakfast 
table. “ We have heard enough of the soldier of 
France.” 

Madame Simon took up the laugh maliciously. 

“ I know now why you would not let me stay 
with the Schmidmeyers,” said Bertrand. “ You 
wanted to make a slave of me. I am to be a 
singing boy in a travelling circus — for you — for 
you, children of the devil, who will not let me go 
to church ! ” 

Mr. Simon rose, white with rage; he showed 
his teeth, and grinned at the boy. 

“ Now,” he said, “ I will beat the life out of 
you ! ” 

“ Do ! ” cried Bertrand. u Then I can not sing. 
Do! I should rather be beaten to death than 
live like a slave.” 

“ Martin ! ” exclaimed Madame Simon, seizing 
the tattered sleeves of her husband’s dressing 
gown. 66 Do not touch him. I know your 


BERTRAND’S ARRIVAL IN AMERICA 81 


temper. Remember, if you should disfigure his 
face, he will be useless to us; and it is almost 
impossible to find another boy with a voice like 
his.” 

Simon sat down at the table again. 

“ He deserves to be maimed for life, but I will 
spare him. — Remember, sir, you are in our 
power.” 

“ I am also in God’s power,” said Bertrand. 

“ Be silent ! You can not speak the language ; 
nobody can understand you, and therefore none 
can help you. You must do what we say, or you 
will starve to death.” 

Bertrand laughed in his turn. 

“ If you starve me to death, you will have no 
singing boy. I will go to church, or I will not 
sing.” 

Bertrand stood up straight and eyed the pair 
fearlessly. Simon rose again, breaking one of 
the thick saucers. 

“ No ! no ! ” screamed his wife. “ Do not 
touch him! The fate of your new operetta de- 
pends on him. He seemed to be such a little 
fool ! ” 

“ Well, then, take the young saint to church,” 
growled Simon; “and after that to the cos- 
tumer’s. But I shall be even with him yet.” 


82 


THE AD VENTURERS 


Bertrand smiled; lie won a victory. His 
spirits rose. He said to liimself : “ God will be 
with me if I do my best.” 


A DANGEROUS MOMENT 


The Schmidmeyers were evidently not on her 
track, and Madame Simon prepared herself to go 
out, — her best hat, a little touch of paint here, a 
little touch of powder there. When she came 
back, smiling, she looked very pleasant. She 
was not the Madame Simon who had so easily 
deceived Bertrand. 

Very reluctantly, she led Bertrand through 
the crowd in the church. Bertrand took out his 
prayer-book, and, for the first time in this new 
land, felt at home. The Mass is the same every- 
where, he thought, — always it speaks the same 
language! “ Dominus vobiscum!” said the 
priest, just as P&re Chalais had said it. There 
was a choir of boys. Bertrand said to himself 
that he could sing as well as the leading soprano, 
and he knew the chant better ; he prayed with all 
his heart that God would inspire him with a plan 
for his deliverance. 

Mass was scarcely over when Madame Simon 

83 


84 


THE AD VENTURERS 


took his hand and insisted on leaving tke ckurck. 
Bertrand kad almost forgotten kis troubles. 

“ Our religion is tke same everywhere,” ke 
said ; “ but I miss tke giving out of tke blessed 
bread, as is done at home.” 

“ I kave no time for suck tkings ; poor people 
must work/’ ske answered crossly. ' “We are 
late as it is ; tke costumer will fee angry.” 

Bertrand was quick to see that, kaving gained 
one end, ke migkt go furtker. 

“ I know tkat I am a slave, Madame Simon — 
tkat I am to be a little dancing monkey, by wkom 
you will gain muck money; and all because I be- 
lieved you, and because you kave taken my 
money, and because these Americans can not 
speak French. But I tell you that, if you do not 
let me go to church on Sunday, and if you im- 
prison me in one room all day, I will sing flat.” 
To Madame, it was an awful threat ! 

Madame stopped short, and shot fire from her 
eyes at him. 

“ You impudent little monkey ! ” 

“ You may call me what you please,” Bertrand 
said. “ I tell you frankly tkat, if I kad money 
or could speak tke language, I would run away. 
Besides, I do not know where my relative lives.” 

Madame Simon laughed. After all, it would 


A DANGEROUS MOMENT 


85 


be better to keep the child in good humor. It 
was true, he had nowhere to go. Besides, Cap- 
tain Grandcourt might put the Federal Officials 
on her track. The Officials were very expert, 
and she knew it. If she were arrested, Ber- 
trand’s presence must be made to seem accidental. 

The costumer was also a Frenchman, who lived 
in the fifth story of a house in Twenty-Eighth 
Street. He was a silent old man. Nevertheless, 
Madame Simon took care that, when he talked, 
he should talk only to her. Several costumes 
were chosen from drawings made by Monsieur 
Yandrier. Bertrand hated to put on a costume 
of pink silk, with a large hat with plumes. 
There was lace at the wrists, and he w r as given 
a small dress sword, with a knot of pale blue 
ribbon at the belt. 

“ I will not wear it ! 99 

“You must!” said Madame Simon, briefly. 
“ You will wear it in the first act, when you dance 
in the gavotte.” 

“ It is only fit for a girl to wear.” 

“It fits you well, Monsieur,” said Monsieur 
Yandrier. “ Go into the little room and try it 
on, with these beautiful azure silk stockings. In 
the second act, you wear the uniform of a 
hussar.” 


86 THE ADVENTURERS 

“ Tliat is better,” said Bertrand. “ But this ! ” 
he added contemptuously. 

“ On Wednesday the hussar uniform shall be 
ready.” The old man saw at once that Bertrand 
might be moved by flattery. “And in the third 
act you wear a diamond crown, with a long 
mantle of white satin and ermine fur.” 

Bertrand’s face flushed. 

“ I will not be a dressed-up monkey ! ” 

“ But,” continued Monsieur Vandrier, “ you 
change to the hussar uniform later, and ride 
across the stage on a real horse.” 

“Do I?” asked Bertrand, his eyes sparkling. 
“ A real horse? ” 

“ Yes,” added Madame Simon, quite willing to 
slap Bertrand, but for the moment taking her 
cue from the old man. “ You ride across the 
stage, leading the troop of hussars, and waving 
your sword ; you will look beautiful.” 

“ Madame has told me before that I was beau- 
tiful,” said Bertrand, not looking at her. “ Boys 
are never beautiful ; that foolishness is for girls. 
I have read the fable of the Crow and the Fox. 
The crow had a piece of cheese ” 

“ Stop ! ” said Madame Simon, angrily. “ Stop, 
or I shall imprison you in a room and feed you 
on bread and water ! Oh, if I could only ” 


A DANGEKOUS MOMENT 


87 


“ You can do anything you choose/’ said Ber- 
trand, “ except make me believe you.” 

Madame drew the old costumer aside. 

“ My nephew is a wicked child.” 

“A bold child, but graceful and clever. You 
will have to manage him. I will tell you that the 
Federal Officials are looking for a boy like this 
one : I saw it in the American paper. You know 
that you got into trouble about your last 
4 nephew.’ The police took him away when you 
burned his hand as a punishment. And there 
was the one before him, whom you kept in the 
cellar until he caught a fever, and then, of course, 
he was of no use. But this one is capable of 
anything. His eyes sparkle; he will refuse to 
sing or he will burn your house down, if he takes 
it into his head to be free. He is capable of any- 
thing ! ” 

Madame Simon sighed. She would have sighed 
more deeply had she known that Bertrand, with 
his quick ears, had caught this conversation, as 
M. Yandrier intended that he should. 

“ They are an ungrateful lot, these boys ! 99 

“ Pardon me, Madame ! ” the old man said. 
“ But you can not blame them. You keep them 
in poverty, you make them work, and when their 
voices are broken or they become ill they are 


88 


THE ADVENTURERS 


turned away. I have often wondered that there 
could be such parents in the world, who would 
sell their children to you. The others were poor 
creatures : this one has spirit. He is a treasure, 
too. When he speaks, it sounds like music. 
Pray do not provoke him.” 

“ Provoke him ! ” hissed Madame Simon. “ I 
would like to break every bone in his body — and 
I will, too, when he is no longer useful. He 
is in our power; we can do what we will with 
him.” 

Bertrand was at a table looking at some pages 
of military costumes. The old man approached 
him, and whispered : 

“ You will wear the hussar uniform with grace, 
and I have done you a good turn. Keep up your 
spirit. 1 can do no more for you. I owe them 
money. The hussar cloak will be embroidered 
with gold.” 

“Yes, Monsieur,” answered Bertrand, resolv- 
ing not to be afraid. 

That afternoon Mr. Simon drilled Bertrand in 
his part. He was very docile ; and when it was 
found difficult to transpose one of the songs, Ber- 
trand suggested Vaucoubert’s little piece. 

“ Ravishing ! ” said Mr. Simon, sincerely. 
“ What pathos ! What simplicity ! ” 


A DANGEROUS MOMENT 


89 


If I had all the roses 
And all the eglantine, 

And all the world encloses, 

And all the stars that shine, — 

I ’d offer all these wonders 
Before my Lady’s shrine. 

Bertrand had forgotten himself in the pretty 
little song. He saw the sea beach in the sun, 
Amelie and Madame la Brune, Pere Chalais and 
Vaucoubert, — all the sweet things remembered 
of France. Then he stopped, and threw his head 
down on the piano and wept aloud. 

“ Ho ! ho ! ” said Mr. Simon. “ The baby cries ! 
Go on with your piece, sir ! ” 

Bertrand only wept louder. 

“ Go on with your piece ! ” 

“ Do what my husband tells you ! 77 cried 
Madame Simon. “ You idle boy ! ” 

“ I will not ! ” Bertrand raised his tear-stained 
face. “The Schmidmeyers are looking for me, 
and the American police. I know it! I will 
help them find me! I will go back to France.” 

“ He will go back to France ! Ah, yes ! ” 
echoed Mr. Simon. “He will not sing his 
music; he will not earn his bread; he will fly 
back to France ! La ! la ! la ! ” 

“ I will not be mocked at ; I will not stay in 


90 


THE ADVENTURERS 


your stuffy rooms, without air, in darkness. No, 
I can not do so when I think of France.” 

Simon raised his right hand menacingly. 

“ Be careful ! ” warned his wife. “ He means 
much money to us ; remember the police ! ” 

“ Well ! ” growled Simon, restraining himself, 
“ I will not strike you.” 

“ No,” said Bertrand. “ You know better. I 
am not afraid.” And he did not seem afraid. 

“ Oh, wait — wait until your voice is broken 
and you are useless ! Wait, and I will cast you 
out, to die, to be rubbish ! ” 

Madame Simon interfered. 

“ You will wear your pretty pink satin dress 
on the stage, Bertrand, my young friend. All 
the world will admire you. Why, you will be as 
pretty as a girl ! ” 

“ As pretty as a girl ! That I will never be ! ” 
stammered Bertrand. “I mock at your pretty 
pink suit. I will not be a pink monkey. I — I — 
never ! You can starve me if you like ; but I will 
not be a monkey, dressed like a girl.” 

“ I will see,” Mr. Simon spoke in a deadly calm 
tone, his eyes blazing. “ Come ! ” He grasped 
Bertrand by the back of the neck and dragged 
him to the little storeroom where trunks and 
boxes were kept. “ There ! ” he said, flinging the 


A DANGEROUS MOMENT 


91 


boy in on the floor. “ There! You shall starve, 
until you are willing to sing for your living.” 

“ I will starve ! ” said Bertrand loudly, though 
his arm had struck the sharp edge of a box, and 
he felt pain, “ but the police will find me ! ” 

“ Well, starve ! ” called out Mr. Simon, locking 
the door. 

The twilight had fallen; the room was dark; 
the chill of disuse and the smell of dry rot were 
in it. Bertrand was obliged to lie on the bare 
floor until the pain in his arm had passed. His 
anger soon faded. He was a small boy; he was 
alone; he was tired; he was sad. There seemed 
to be no help on this earth for him. 

These people could do as they liked with him. 
In all this great new country, he had not one 
friend. Red Indians and cowboys would have 
treated him no worse. Cowboys at least lived in 
the open air, and they could not have shut him 
into this horrible gloom, from which strange 
creatures might at any time come out. He could 
hear the sound of passing electric cars, and of 
voices and footsteps; but nobody except the 
Simons could hear him. 

After a time he rose and went to the window. 
He heard Mr. Simon’s voice saying outside the 
door: 


92 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“No, — not even a piece of bread. He shall 
starve to death.” 

“He wants me to hear that,” thought Ber- 
trand, “ he is foolish ; he will not starve me to 
death, for then I cannot sing.” 

The window was fastened firmly; and outside 
the panes was a shutter made of painted slats, 
tinted of a dusty green. He waited until he 
heard Mr. Simon leave the door. Then he tried 
the fastening of the window-sash. It was rusty, 
and when he moved it a little it made a loud 
squeaking noise. He turned away, discouraged. 
There might be some tools that he could use in 
the room. Trunks, boxes, an old umbrella, some 
boxes of wine, a half-filled crock of olive oil, a 
chunk of Parmesan cheese, — nothing else was 
there. He threw himself on one of the big 
trunks. He Avas trapped. He imagined himself 
a hare — he had seen one in his father’s woods — 
caught by the leg between iron springs. He 
blessed himself, and murmured an “ Our Father.” 

He took up the crock of oil. It was easy to 
pour some drops on the rusty fastening; after 
this it moved easily. The outer shutters were 
tied with rope. Bertrand felt in his trousers 
pocket for his penknife, — it was gone. Just then 
a footstep sounded outside the door. It was evi- 


A DANGEROUS MOMENT 


93 


dent that somebody was listening. Bertrand 
softly lowered the window, which was now well 
oiled. The key turned in the lock, and Mr. 
Simon appeared in his dressing-gown and slip- 
pers ; he carried a candle. 

“ Ah — ah ! ” he said. “ I was right ! ” He 
noticed the crock on the floor, its cork lying be- 
side it. “ You are like a rat, eating our cheese 
and drinking our oil. Ah, my fine fellow, you 
will eat no more! You shall starve until you 
are reasonable. When your spirit is broken, 
then you may come out.” 

Bertrand said nothing. Mr. Simon picked up 
the lump of hard cheese and the crock of oil, and 
left, locking the door very carefully. Bertrand 
was on his feet in an instant, and with his hands 
on the window-sash. He tried in his waistcoat 
pocket for his penknife : it w r as there. The hard 
knot of rope that kept the green shutters together 
was easily cut, but the hinges were so rusty that 
he could not move them. “ Well, what if I do 
open them? ” he asked himself. He would find 
himself many feet from the ground, appealing 
for help to people who could not understand 
him, — only to be put back into the hands of the 
Simons, and enslaved by them. He might just 
as well give up. “ But — no ! 99 he thought. “ I 


94 


THE ADVENTURERS 


have prayed, and I have done my best, and the 
good God will not fail me.” 

His hands dripped with oil; he rubbed the 
rusty shutter hinges, and at last they softly 
turned, as he pressed against the shutters. He 
looked, not down into the twilighted street, but 
on the fire-escape, — “ a balcony,” Bertrand called 
it to himself. It was filled by two earthen pots, 
in which the withered stalks of geraniums still 
stood, a roll of musty carpet, and a pair of old 
boots. 

The boy was astonished to find that an old 
iron staircase led from the “balcony” down- 
ward. He had never seen a fire-escape before 
this. Cautiously he threaded his way to the top 
of the iron ladder and descended. Apparently, 
the fire-escapes were habitually used as means 
of descent by all the neighborhood tenants; for 
Bertrand went down unnoticed. 


VII 


AT CHOIR REHEARSAL 

Once down, Bertrand easily made Ms way to 
the corner of the street. There he paused. 
Where should he go? He must find the Schmid- 
meyers. But how? TMs was a puzzle. The fresh 
air helped to give him courage. He wished he 
could ask, in English, of some of the many loung- 
ing or hurrying people, “ Where does Mrs. 
Schmidmeyer live? ” Somebody might know. 
Or, “ Are you acquainted with my uncle Watson, 
in Ohio or Iowa? ” If his uncle Watson was of 
a distinguished family — as he probably was, 
being related to the De Values, — this would be 
the easiest way. But he could only stand help- 
lessly on the corner. And he had no hat ! 

He looked around him. There were many 
hatless boys running about. He felt his help- 
lessness; and, hatless, he felt, too, that he was 
nobody; his self-respect was wounded. A star 
came suddenly from the clouds. 

“ I will go toward that star,” he said. “ Per- 
95 


96 THE ADVENTURERS 

haps my father and Am61ie are looking at that 
same star.” 

He walked rapidly through the crowded 
streets, with the star before him. He stopped 
in front of a building which he seemed to 
recognize. Yes, it was the church where he had 
heard the singing boys. The front looked dark 
and silent. He walked up the flight of stone 
steps which led to the main entrance. The door 
— it had been open all day — was now closed. He 
walked down the steps very slowly, saying his 
prayer for help. How lonely it was in the dusk ! 

He was not afraid of Mr. Simon now; for he 
was in the free air, and he could run. Give a 
boy the use of his legs and a clear space, and 
there is not much he is afraid of. Standing on 
the lowest step, he was in great doubt. What 
could he do? Go to the cure ? But the father 
might not understand French. He walked a 
little farther to the north, and noticed an alley 
which went between the church and what he 
supposed was the house of the priest. 

At the end of this alley there were lights burn- 
ing. He made for them at once. This might 
perhaps be the room of the choir boys. The 
door was open, and Bertrand saw two men near 
a piano; they were talking earnestly. The 


AT CHOIR REHEARSAL 


97 


younger was dark, with his thick black hair cut 
short, and a little clipped mustache ; the other — 
Bertrand discovered when he had examined the 
room from his place in front of the door — was a 
young priest. 

“ It’s hot. Leave the door open,” said the 
priest. “ I wonder that you do not go mad . 
Imagine listening to the discord of thirty boys 
all the afternoon! It is not an easy thing to 
conduct a boy choir.” 

“ They are imps ! ” answered the other man, 
with emphasis. “ Such a motley lot came in 
answer to our advertisement, and not one really 
good voice. I have chosen two of rather poor 
quality. It is hard work. If I didn't like music 
so much, I’d give it up.” 

“ Here’s another one! ” 

Bertrand stood, hatless, on the step. 

“ At least,” remarked the priest, “ he is polite. 
The others were not, as a rule, ceremonious.” 
And he laughed. 

“ Oh, you may laugh ! ” returned the other, 
speaking slowly, as if unaccustomed to the En- 
glish language. “ Here’s another imp, true 
enough ! — What do you want, boy? It is too late. 
1 have had enough torture for one day. Come 
again. And put on your hat. Your polite- 


98 THE ADVENTURERS 

ness, to which I am unaccustomed, frightens 
me.” 

“ He has no hat,” said the priest. 

“ It is not politeness, but necessity. Indeed I 
have no hat,” murmured Bertrand, in French. 

“Go! Go!” 

Bertrand did not move. 

“ I want to sing,” he said in French. 

“ It is too late,” replied the young director of 
the choir. “ I have had Italian boys, German 
boys, American boys, and Jewish boys, but you 
are the first French boy.” 

“ Give me a chance, then, Monsieur, since you, 
too, are a Frenchman.” 

“ Oh ! ” the director groaned. “ Can’t you 
come again? Go home! I am tired. Come on 
Wednesday at four or at seven o’clock. Go ! ” 

The young man turned his back on the boy, and 
closed the piano. 

Bertrand was desperate. He had great con- 
fidence in his voice, and he began the first song 
that recurred to him. It was Vaucoubert’s: 

“Si j’etais roi des diamants, 

Et vous la reine des perles. ’ 9 

“ What? Where did you learn that tune? ” 
The director seized Bertrand by the arm. 


AT CHOIR REHEARSAL 


99 


“ Vaucoubert taught me.” 

“ Vaucoubert? He is my uncle ! ” 

“ And you are Guy ! ” Bertrand threw him- 
self into the arms of the young man. “ You are 
Guy — Vaucoubert’s Guy, — the great musician 
who has gained success in America ! Oh, I am so 
glad! I am Bertrand de Value.” 

“ Little Bertrand ! ” 

Guy Vaucoubert was astonished. 

“ Father,” he said to the priest, “ the un- 
expected always happens.” 

“You mean that Providence directs things, 
and not we. Well, he is a nice little boy; and, 
judging from the way he took those notes, he 
has a voice. I’ll leave you. I have a lot of ac- 
counts to make up. At last you have found a 
polite boy with a voice. If I can be of further 
use to you or your friend, the boy, let me 
know.” 

And the young priest left them. 

“ First, sing that song again,” said Guy. 
66 You and Vaucoubert and I alone know it. It 
was written for me. It will be sung in my 
opera.” 

Guy opened the piano and began the accom- 
paniment ; Bertrand sang the piece, half hymn, 
half song, to the end. 


100 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“Your voice is lovely, Bertrand. You shall 
come into the choir, if you will.” 

Bertrand began to tremble. 

“ O Mr. Guy,” he begged, “ hide me some- 
where! The Simons will take me.” 

“Nonsense! Who are the Simons?” Guy 
tightened his lips. “For the moment you 
belong to me. You shall dine with me, and then 
I will take you home. Wliere’s your hat? I 
can’t see how you got into the grasp of those 
people. The Officials are most strict. A case 
like this has never occurred ! ” 

“ It was my own fault,” said Bertrand. “ The 
captain did all he could.” 

Bertrand’s tears came in a flood; he hated to 
cry, but he could not help it. He put his arms 
about Guy’s neck and told him the whole story. 

“Don’t cry! Just sing a little. That will 
make you forget — and me, too, — the wretches, 
the brutes ! But we all know the reputation of 
those Simons, who escape the police simply be- 
cause they are never in one place very long. 
But sing ! ” 

Bertrand dried his eyes and sang: 

“ Si vous etiez la reine des roses! ” 

“Ravishing!” said Guy. “You can sing. 


AT CHOIR REHEARSAL 


101 


The words are not much — words never are, — but 
they remind me of home and my Uncle Vaucou- 
bert. If he were here, I should never again 
laugh at his singing.” 

Bertrand was irritated. 

“ He sings well.” 

“Oh, that’s right, — stick up for him! You 
shall stay with me until I hear from your uncle. 
You need not fear; you shall not go back to 
the Simons. I will deal with them. Trust 
me! ” 

Bertrand was taken by Guy Vaucoubert to a 
small French restaurant in Eighth Street. It 
was like being in paradise, to hear his own 
language, to eat haricot beans and some omelette 
and chicken. 

“ To-morrow I will buy you a hat, and you 
must begin to speak English.” 

“ The Simons have all my clothes and my 
money.” 

“ Leave that to me.” 

“Must I go to my uncle’s?” asked Bertrand, 
wistfully, as Guy prepared his bed. “I would 
like to stay with you.” 

Bertrand slept very well that night on the 
sofa, in Guy’s big room in Washington Square. 
But before he went to sleep, he said his prayer 


102 


THE ADVENTURERS 


of thanksgiving ; and Guy was glad to kneel with 
him. 

Next morning, Bertrand did not awake until 
the sun was well up. He had been very tired, 
mentally and physically. Guy’s Japanese ser- 
vant brought him a large cup of coffee and a roll. 
Shortly after he had taken his bath in the big 
marble tub, Guy came in. 

“ Well, I caught them, bright and early. 
Your bag and box are on the way, and here’s a 
hundred francs I forced them to give you. I 
suppose that’s less than you lent them?” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” 

“ I thought so.” 

“But I’d be glad to be away from them, if 
they kept all the money. What’s money to 
freedom? ” 

Guy laughed. “ I’ll have my coffee now while 
you dress, and then we’ll talk.” 

Bertrand stationed himself in the window, 
while Guy ate his frugal breakfast : for, like most 
Europeans, he never had more than a cup of 
coffee and a roll in the morning. 

“ And now we must find your uncle, or great- 
uncle, or whatever he is.” 

“ He lives in Iowa or Ohio. I think it is Ohio, 
as somebody told me that his place meant, 


AT CHOIR REHEARSAL 103 

6 How do you do ! ’ in Japanese ; and I think it 
is Ohio.” 

“ But where in Ohio? ” 

“In Ohio,” answered Bertrand. “That is 
probably the place. It will be easy enough to 
find.” 

“ Easy? ” said Guy, — “ easy? Ohio is a State, 
not a city or a town.” 

“I understand, sir,” replied Bertrand, — “a 
province. But I am sure that any person re- 
lated to my mother must be so distinguished 
that everyone will know him.” 

Guy Vaucoubert laughed. 

“ You must learn English, geography, and the 
ways of this country.” 

“ I know the geography of Europe,” answered 
Bertrand, offended. 

“ That’s not enough. And now, until you 
find your relative — who may be a grocer, a 
farmer, a hardware dealer, or anything (every- 
body works here), — you shall practice your 
scales, sing in the choir, live with me, and be as 
happy as you can.” 

Bertrand reddened and hesitated. 

“ But I must pay.” 

“ Oh, very well ! I will give you something 
for your service in the church, — more, as you 


104 


THE ADVENTURERS 


sing better and better. That will pay me for the 
little room behind mine ; and the hundred francs 
I have rescued from these robbers, the Simons, 
you shall keep for shoes and car fare. Tell me 
about the life at Mers, — what you did this 
summer, and about Pere Chalais. Are the Des 
Arches still alive? Were there many people 
this summer? Who has the pink villa near the 
mayor’s house? Is Lebrave still mayor? Now 
begin ! ” 

It was nearly noon before Guy was content to 
drop the many subjects suggested by the little 
town in which he had spent so many happy 
summers with his uncle. Then Guy opened his 
big piano — the one luxurious piece of furniture 
his room contained — and put Bertrand through 
his musical paces. The piano was ornamented 
with beautiful angels (copied from those painted 
by Fra Angelico) on a ground of white enamel. 
Bertrand said that he had never seen anything 
so beautiful as a row of these angels glowing 
with gold, blowing trumpets. 

“ I ought not to own so costly a piano,” said 
Guy ; “ but I can not sell it, as it was given to 
me. I shall tell you the story of it sometime. 
It is not good to have such lovely pictures 


AT CHOIR REHEARSAL 


105 


painted on the piano ; they make you forget the 
music.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” said Bertrand. “ They make you 
think more of the music.” 

“ I believe you have a musical heart.” 

“ Certainly,” answered Bertrand. “ When I 
grow up, I shall play in one of the bands that 
make the soldiers march. That is my ambition. 
But I wish the general of the French army 
would let me play on his big trumpet, such as 
the angels have.” 

“ At present,” said Guy, “ your business is not 
to think of playing big trumpets for the French 
army, but of singing at the High Mass on next 
Sunday, and likewise at Vespers. As an Ameri- 
can citizen, I do not approve of your warlike 
ideas. You see, I love France; but, as I have 
been here for seven years, I have learned to love 
America first, and put her first.” 

“ I will go to France at once ” (Bertrand held 
himself very straight) “if people here will ex- 
pect me to love America better. When I pay 
my respects to my relative I shall say : ‘ I will 
never be an American; do not expect it, Mon- 
sieur. Now that I have saluted you, let me de- 
part.’ ” 

“ What is the name of this relative whom you 


106 


THE ADVENTURERS 


will salute in your best manner? ” Guy asked, 
smiling. 

“ I do not know; Amelie knows. I think it 
is Watson.” 

“ Watson, — somewhere in Ohio ! My dear 
Bertrand, you will, I think, be obliged to stay a 
long time with me. I shall explain to the police, 
and make everything right. You can not go 
back to nurse your father in the trenches; you 
can not find this relative ; you must remain with 
me, to learn to work. Work is the word here in 
the United States; so now we shall take the O 
Salutaris for Sunday. Thank Heaven that you 
have a good voice, — one of the best boy voices I 
have ever heard. With it you can praise God 
and earn a living. Try to be contented until 
you see your father and Amelie again.” 

“I will, Guy Vaucoubert,” answered Ber- 
trand. “ But you will not force me to be an 
American?” Tears came into his eyes. 

Guy laughed. “ I might do worse. Now I will 
make you sing your hymn. Come ! Here goes ! ” 

After an hour’s practice, Guy made an 
omelette on his small gas stove, and allowed 
Bertrand to fry some potatoes. Bertrand, who, 
unlike most French boys, did not disdain the art 
of cooking as “ sissified,” was glad to be of use. 


AT CHOIR REHEARSAL 


107 


Wlien Guy praised liis coffee, he began to believe 
that America was, after all, a rather cheerful 
place. 

At the rehearsal in the afternoon, Bertrand 
was not at all nervous; he was never nervous 
when he sang. The young priest spoke to him 
in French, and the other boys looked at him 
doubtfully. One of them kindly whispered to 
him : 

“ Your squeak is not so bad, but you look like 

a dago/’ 

Bertrand took this for a polite salutation, and 
smiled. It was a long time before he was able 
to go into the street without looking behind him, 
for fear Mr. Simon might suddenly come up and 
seize him. 

The Simons did not appear. Guy Yaucoubert 
knew much about their evil doings ; and they had 
gone away from New York, in deadly fear of the 
police. Bertrand had been taught a lesson, — 
namely, not to talk freely to strangers. There 
was not much temptation to break this rule, as it 
was several weeks before Bertrand could speak 
ten words of English intelligibly. He practiced 
diligently, made great progress by working hard. 
“ Nothing can be done without work,” Guy said, 
when Bertrand was inclined to remain outside 


108 


THE ADVENTURERS 


too long on the snowy days, with his sled. “ The 
most beautiful voice is useless, if one does not 
work to cultivate it. A person that plays or 
sings merely by ear ! How foolish ! ” 

Bertrand learned to read and sing difficult 
music at sight. Guy, finding that he could make 
coffee, obliged him to make the best possible 
coffee. “ Whatever you do, you must do well,” 
was his motto. In the meantime nothing was 
heard of the relative in Ohio. 

Just after the beginning of November, Ber- 
trand had acquired enough English to go to 
school. At first he did not like the school, and 
he had a hard time. But soon he became recon- 
ciled to his lot, and devoted himself to his 
studies. 


VIII 


A SCHOOLBOY^ quarrel 

Bertrand's teacher pronounced him a 
“ wonder ” in mathematics, and anything but a 
“ wonder ” in the other studies ; consequently, he 
was sent into a class of very big boys for arith- 
metic and algebra ; but he spent most of his time 
with the smaller boys, — some much younger 
than himself. 

Among the traditions of the school was one 
that a new boy must fight one or two other boys 
of his own size, in order to make his place secure. 
The smaller boys looked down upon Bertrand 
because he could not speak English well, and the 
larger pupils disliked him because he went 
steadily ahead of them all in mathematics; and 
when Brother Lucian suggested one day, as an 
incentive to the others, that he should go into 
the special class for geometry, his unpopularity 
was very great. Bertrand was not aware of this 
as yet. 

It must be admitted that the boys in all the 
classes were, as a rule, well behaved in school. 

109 


110 


THE AD VENTURERS 


The teachers insisted on what was called, in the 
report made out monthly, “ Deportment ” ; and 
every week there was a short lecture on good 
manners and consideration for others. The 
young priest, who delivered the lecture after 
the weekly examination in religious doctrine, 
admitted, with a sigh, that probably his lecture 
might have great influence — in the future. 
Once outside the school, the “ perfect ” in “ de- 
portment ” became what Bertrand called “ sav- 
ages ” ; and on one terrible day the boy who 
always stood “ first ” was arrested by the police- 
man for chasing a Chinese laundryman. There 
were others who had indulged in this sport, but 
only the “ prize boy ” was caught. 

Brother Lucian loved mathematics; he cared 
very little about “ deportment ” in comparison 
with what the small boys called “ sums.” You 
might lean luxuriously on your elbows and mur- 
mur your calculations half aloud; you might 
even snatch your neighbor’s lead pencil for 
temporary use, and be caught trying to remove 
black marks from your face with the sleeve of 
your jacket, provided you satisfied his taste in 
mathematics, or played baseball well in the 
vacant lot behind the school. 

Brother Edward was tall and dark, with a 


A SCHOOLBOY’S QUARREL 


111 


ruddy complexion and great muscles ; he had the 
air of seeming to be asleep half the time, yet no 
important breach of discipline went unnoticed. 
He carefully looked after the class of smaller 
boys, of which Bertrand was one most of the 
time; and he valued “ deportment” above every- 
thing except catechism. He was an English- 
man, and he thought that baseball and the 
American football were not to be compared to 
cricket or a game he occasionally spoke of as 
“ badminton.” Hockey on the ice he liked, and 
he had promised to take the best of his class 
out to organize a hockey team as soon as the ice 
formed in the park. 

Brother Lucian was thin and short, red- 
haired, and with brown eyes that had a tinge of 
red in them ; and his “ little lambs,” as he called 
his pupils when he was not pleased, were really 
afraid of him; for there was a tradition in the 
school that red-haired people would do “any- 
thing to you.” It is true that Brother Lucian 
ruled by fear ; and, when one knew his class well, 
one felt that a tender and gentle love expressed 
fittingly would have astonished and inconve- 
nienced the little flock, who did their best to 
please him. 

Brother Lucian was never angry ; but his 


112 


THE ADVENTURERS 


u lambs ” were afraid he might be. Besides, 
when he was off duty, he could throw a ball 
marvellously well; and nobody in the school 
could discuss the faults and virtues of the great 
professional athletes as he could. Some of the 
boys had come to this school from classes taught 
by young women in other schools, and they 
found the atmosphere cold. They complained to 
their mothers. Their fathers, however, turned 
a deaf ear to their representations. It would 
be foolish to pretend that either Brother Lucian 
or Brother Edward was loved. Both were 
greatly respected ; and, while there was a certain 
consideration shown to the stupid boys, the idle 
ones found life a burden. 

One day Hopkins, the prize reader, who in- 
tended to be an actor, spoke with great feeling 
a “ selected ” passage : 

“ Jack, now an admiral in the Navy, who had 
fought many battles, thought of his old teacher. 
i How I loved him ! ? he said. c How sweet and 
kind he was ! Alas, if I had only worked harder 
for him ! How I loved him ! ’ ” 

This was read soulfully. 

“ Stop ! ” said Brother Edward, sternly. 
“ Bosh ! If anybody loves me, let him stand up 
and say so ! ” 


A SCHOOLBOY’S QUARREL 113 

“ No, Brother ! ” answered a treble chorus, 
and nobody stood up. 

This was felt to be a strange thing by some of 
the smaller boys, whose earlier days had been 
spent in the kindergarten. But it produced 
the effect the Brother desired, as he was strictly 
just, — and justice in a teacher covers a multi- 
tude of minor defects. It produced good re- 
sults. 

Brother Lucian had no favorites; the clever 
mathematicians were not, apparently, more be- 
loved than these honest workers who had to be 
taught with great patience. His class was a 
paradise for the slow boys. They were not 
riddled with sarcasms, — weapons which chill the 
heart and benumb the head of the pupil who does 
not happen to be gifted with a talent for mathe- 
matics or anything else. 

Bertrand’s lessons in music were a great 
pleasure to him ; and the lessons in “ sums ” 
were agreeable, too. But it was most disagree- 
able to be laughed at when he read “ wiz ” for 
“with,” and “de” for “the.” 

“ Why do you laugh? ” he demanded. “ I do 
not laugh at you.” 

This was in a small circle of the “kept in” 
after school, when discipline was relaxed. 


114 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ There is nothing but to laugh when you 
speak English,” Shorty Jones answered. 

“ I might laugh at you sometimes, Jones, if I 
chose,” said Brother Edward ; “ but I would 
think it ungentlemanly to do so.” 

“Ah, g’on!” murmured Jones. 

“ I think I caught that expression, though not 
intended for me. Your Bowery accent is de- 
plorable. Your English is as bad as those 
Londoners of the lowest classes who speak of 
i ’at ’ instead of 6 hat,’ and ‘ ’ead ’ instead of 
‘ head.’ You say W Yo’k. Altogether, if you 
lived in a community where the habit of good 
English was cultivated, you would be put down 
as speaking a dialect.” 

Jones flushed. 

“ Excuse me, Brother ! ” he said. “ But I 
ain’t enough of an ‘ ivory top ’ to believe that 
anybody speaks better English than W Yo’kers.” 

“ Poor child ! ” responded the exasperating 
Brother. “ But if I ever again hear you say 
‘ faamily ’ for ‘ family,’ or 6 accent ’ for ‘ hccent,’ 
I’ll give you a bad mark. Now, go on, De Value, 
and watch your c withs.’ ” 

“ I hate the English ! ” murmured Jones. 

Bertrand went on, much refreshed. He tried 


A SCHOOLBOY’S QUARREL 115 

to watch his “ withs,” but his tendency was too 
strong toward “wiz.” Nevertheless, there was 
only one giggle from Jones, and then Brother 
Edward promptly said : 

“ Gwan ! ” 

“ Which means continuez? ” asked Bertrand, 
surprised by the interruption. 

“ It means, in good New Yo’k, * Go on,’ ” said 
Brother Edward, shortly. Upon this, the class 
swore never to love the English. 

When the informal exercises were over — the 
regular school exercises were anything but in- 
formal, — Brother Edward addressed the two 
boys who had been “ kept in ” because their 
method of reading was bad. 

“ Now,” he said, “ I want to tell you one thing. 
Don’t laugh at other people until you are sure 
that you are beyond laughter yourself. You 
laugh at De Value’s natural mistakes: suppose 
he should turn the tables by laughing when you, 
Richard Jones, say ‘twict’ instead of * twice,’ 
or ‘ drownded ’ instead of ‘ drowned ’ ; or when 
William Rice says ‘ idear ’ instead of 4 idea ’? ” 

“I wouldn’t care,” retorted William Rice, 
sullenly. 

“ Oh, yes, you would ! ” 

“ Well, I might try to lick him,” William Rice 


116 


THE ADVENTURERS 


admitted. “ I’d like to see a foreigner like that 
laugh at me! ” 

“ But you’d deserve it. You are trying to 
speak your native language, while he is trying 
to speak a language as foreign to him as Greek 
is to you ! ” 

“Oh, g’on!” murmured Jones, under his 
breath. “ Why, any child can speak English ! ” 

“ And any French child can speak French ; but 
you can’t say in French what the smallest child 
in France can say. And, then,” continued 
Brother Edward, “you are always laughing at 
things you don’t understand. You have always 
seen men wear their watches in their waistcoat 
pocket, with chains attached. The other day, 
old Colonel Crass, an English friend of mine, 
came in to see the class. All went well until 
you boys noticed that he wore a little watch in 
a leather band around his wrist. The whole 
class giggled. Hopkins, never having seen an 
English soldier with a watch at his wrist, be- 
came actually red in the face, and I heard him 
say, ‘ Dude ! ’ The fact is that the Colonel was 
one of the bravest soldiers in the Crimean war. 
He always wore his watch that way, because a 
fighting man or a drilling man, or a very busy 
man finds it easier to look at a watch on his 


A SCHOOLBOY’S QUARREL 


117 


wrist than to dig into his pocket. I hope that 
you’ll grow up to be like him. 4 Dude/ indeed ! ” 

The class filed out, not well pleased with itself, 
and especially displeased with Bertrand, who 
turned quietly toward Washington Square. He 
had gone only half a block, glad to be in the open 
air, singing a phrase from “ Mignon,” when he 
felt two arms thrust about his neck. He tried 
to turn, but the grasp tightened. Billy Rice 
was trying his new wrestling tricks, and Hop- 
kins and J ones were watching maliciously. 
Bertrand had muscular arms and legs, and he 
kept upright, and tried to swing rapidly around. 
Billy Rice removed the grip from his neck to his 
chest. Bertrand made another violent attempt 
to throw him off. Billy was taller and heavier 
than Bertrand, who found himself crushed as in 
a vise. 

“Ah,” he said, almost choking, “you are a 
coward ! You attack me in the back. Come, if 
you must ! We will practice the box.” 

Bertrand’s books fell on the sidewalk ; another 
boy picked them up. 

“ He’s right ! ” called out the new boy. “ You 
don’t give him a fair chance.” 

Bertrand’s head was crushed against Rice’s 
chest, and he could only gasp. 


118 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ Kick him in the shins ! ” exclaimed the new 
boy. 

Bertrand, though ignorant of the meaning of 
the word “ shins,” did this very effectively. 
Rice, with a howl, pushed him away; and Ber- 
trand fell, pained but triumphant, on a pile of 
sand near the curbstone. Rice rushed at him, 
applauded by Hopkins and Jones. Bertrand 
tried to get up, but Rice was upon him. 

“ This won’t do ! ” 

The new boy pulled Rice up roughly, kicked 
him twice, and then helped Bertrand. 

“ You can fight me, if you want to,” said the 
new boy. “ I’m your size. Here, youngster, 
hold these books — why, Bertrand Value!” 

“ Carl Schmidmeyer ! ” 

Bertrand ran forward and kissed Schmid- 
meyer on both cheeks. 

“ My preserver ! ” he exclaimed in French. 
“ I thank thee for saving me from these bar- 
barians, who are neither gentlemen nor the sons 
of gentlemen ! ” 

“ Glad to see you, all the same ! ”said Carl, very 
much ashamed of this demonstration. “ Where 
do you live? I’ll walk with you; and if 
any of these ‘ ivory tops ’ attack you, let them do 
so. It would be just like taking popcorn from 


A SCHOOLBOY’S QUARREL 119 

a baby for me to fight any of them. Hear 
that? ” 

His scowl was dreadful ; he looked big and red. 
And so Rice and the others called out, “ Dago ! ” 
and fled. 

Carl Schmidmeyer merely said : 

“ My mother will be glad ! ” 

Bertrand blushed. 

u I was not grateful/’ he answered in fairly 
good English. “ I myself accuse.” 

“ Oh,” said Carl, “ you’re only a kid ! Do you 
go to school there? I go across town. It’s a 
better school. We don’t jump on boys smaller 
than our size. Your school doesn’t seem to have 
any principles.” 

This was beyond Bertrand. 

“ We’re having a birthday party on Saturday, 
— the baby’s,” said Carl. “ You come, — Sixth 
Avenue, near Twenty-First Street; up-stairs; 
four o’clock.” 

And Carl ran off, whistling. 


IX 


BRAVERY CONQUERS LONELINESS 

Bertrand forgot all about tbe recent light, in 
the pleasant prospect of seeing Mrs. Schmid- 
meyer. His collar was torn, there was a 
scratch under his left eye, and one suspender was 
broken. Vaucoubert, who was waiting for him, 
pushed him toward the piano. 

“ The scales, — the scales ! ” he exclaimed. Ber- 
trand opened his mouth, and ran up and down 
the scale. 

“ All right ! ” said Guy, much relieved. “ I 
was afraid you had injured your throat. If you 
must light, keep your voice safe. And by all 
means do not get a black eye. Mgr. Dawson will 
not tolerate a black eye in his choir.” 

Bertrand ran to the little mirror and looked at 
bis face carefully. 

“ Only a scratch ! ” he said joyfully. “ I 
couldn’t help fighting, Monsieur Guy, — I really 
couldn’t. In truth, I didn’t fight : I was fought. 
But I have good news : I have found Carl Schmid- 
meyer ! ” 

“ You have? That’s good ! ” 

120 


BRAVERY CONQUERS LONELINESS 121 

Guy was pleased. Tlie finding of the Schmid- 
meyers might lead to the discovery of Bertrand’s 
“ Mr. Watson.” Perhaps they knew his address. 
He did not know how anxiously the Schmid- 
meyers had sought for him. Guy did not w r ant 
to get rid of Bertrand: on the contrary, he was 
afraid that the lost relative might arrive and 
claim the boy before negotiations could begin. 
Guy believed that he might be able to induce Mr. 
Watson to help him pay for Bertrand’s musical 
education and at the same time leave the boy in 
his hands. Until Mr. Watson should be found, 
Bertrand’s future seemed to be uncertain. Such 
a case as the disappearance of Bertrand from an 
ocean steamer had never before occurred. It 
was well for the Simons that they had left New 
York. 

“ No more French, Bertrand. Except on 
Sundays, you must speak English, now that you 
are about to make some English-speaking ac- 
quaintances.” 

“ All right ! I am content, — I agree wiz you,” 
said Bertrand. “ I am invited to the Schmid- 
meyers’ baby’s birthday party.” 

“ I will go, too, — to pay my respects to the 
amiable Mrs. Schmidmeyer.” 

“ Oh, that will be — ravissant!” 


122 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ You mean delightful? ” 

“ Delightful ! ” 

Bertrand jumped about. He would see some 
people who had talked with his dear Amelie. He 
would confess to the kind Mrs. Schmidmeyer how 
ungrateful he had been. 

“ And, if you please, Monsieur Guy, may I take 
a gift? ” 

“ It is your duty,” replied Guy. 

“ Then I will ask the baker in the next street 
to make for the Schmidmeyer little goat a beauti- 
ful ■” 

“ Little goat? ” 

“ Yes ; that is what Carl Schmidmeyer and the 
boys at school call a small child, is it not? ” 

“ Oh, I see ! ” said Guy, laughing, — “ a kid.” 

“ The dictionary says that it is a little goat, — 
a kid.” 

Guy laughed again. 

“ Then, .with your permission, I will give to the 
little kid a cake of St. Honore, such as, in our 
family in France, we always have on our — our — 
our birthdays.” 

Bertrand put his hand on Guy’s shoulder, and 
tears ran out of his eyes. 

“Oh, the birthday cake makes me so lonely! 
Shall I never see my father or Am61ie or ” 


BRAVERY CONQUERS LONELINESS 123 


He choked, clinched his fist hard, wiped his 
eyes, and tried to look brave. 

“ No, no ! I am the son of a soldier. And the 
good God will not let us be lonely forever.” 

“ You shall have your cake — and a big one ! ” 
Guy’s own eyes were moist: he, too, had known 
what loneliness meant. 

“ You make the coffee, and I will make the 
toast; then for a quick walk in the Square, and 
the two hours’ practice before dinner. Give me 
the electric toaster. The smell of my toast will 
soon make you hungry. While we are cooking, 
tell me about the fight.” 

Bertrand began the story of the attack, which 
he tried to tell without exaggeration. Guy 
listened attentively. 

“ I don’t believe in fighting, if you can help it,” 
he said, “ but if you must fight in order to keep 
other boys from making your life a torment, 
learn to fight well. Don’t hit below the belt, and 
don’t strike anybody in the eyes. Just make the 
boys respect you, if you can; and don’t think of 
fighting at all, if you can help it. It was good 
of Schmidmeyer, — very good, — particularly after 
you had behaved so badly by taking up with those 
horrible Simons.” 


X 


SCHMIDMEYERS' BIRTHDAY PARTY 

The Schmidmeyers lived in a very high apart- 
ment. It is true that the Elevated Railroad 
made a great noise at frequent intervals ; but the 
family, like many other families, were entirely 
accustomed to the noise. 

“We couldn’t sleep in a quiet street,” Carl 
Schmidmeyer said. “ Quietness always wakes 
me up.” 

This was only one of the strange things heard 
by Bertrand at the birthday party. It was a 
pleasant party. Guy was warmly welcomed by 
the Schmidmeyer family ; and Mrs. Schmid- 
meyer’s joy at seeing Bertrand — “ the dear 
brother of Amelie, who saved my darling baby,” 
— brought tears to Guy’s eyes, and made Ber- 
trand ashamed of himself. But many times 
Mrs. Schmidmeyer said : u Oh, how often have I 
wished that I had let the authorities take you off 
at Ellis Island, and then had you sent home! 
But where to send you, that was the question! 
There was no address on your father’s telegram, 
124 


SCHMIDMEYERS’ BIRTHDAY PARTY 125 


except Senlis, which was in the midst of the 
war.” 

One could not help liking Mr. Schmidmeyer. 
He was so kind and so big and so jolly! His 
blue eyes looked into yours so keenly, so under- 
standingly! And his large, red right hand 
clasped yours in so hearty a manner that you 
felt he meant to be your friend. He “ looked 
after offices in Wall Street,” he told Bertrand; 
and his employees had helped him to make a 
“ tidy sum ” ;so that he had no fear for thefuture, 
as long as he could work. He could take good 
care of his children until they should be able to 
work as he did. And he added (this Bertrand 
readily understood, because the kitchen was 
near the parlor) : “ There will be roast turkey 
and mince pie.” 

Thonse looked very plump and rosy. 

“ I am five years old,” he said, taking Ber- 
trand’s hand. “ Five ! I am not a little boy, but 
a big, big boy,” and he stood on tiptoe. “ I am to 
have a cake, and perhaps a dog like the one we 
lost in France, — B6be.” 

“ He remembers ! ” exclaimed Bertrand in as- 
tonishment. 

“He remembers everything,” said his proud 
father. “Yes, he shall have a dog; but, of 


126 


THE ADVENTURERS 


course, we could not have a large dog in this 
small apartment. Nevertheless, we shall have 
a dog.” 

Mark, a stout, good-natured hoy, with blue 
eyes like his father’s, began to laugh. 

u We shall see ! This dog will give no trouble. 
He is the brother of the lost B6be. We shall 
see ! ” 

The whole family joined in the laugh and 
Thonse said : 

“ My dog’s name shall be Peter, — the brother 
of the lost Bebe.” 

At this moment a young woman entered. She 
carried a box tied with red and white ribbons. 
Her cheeks were very rosy, and her eyes blue, but 
of a blue that had a look of sea-color in them. 
The children, with the exception of Carl, ran 
forward joyously. 

“ O Aunt Karen ! ” they called out. 

“ She is not their aunt,” Mr. Schmidmeyer 
said : “ she is a nice Danish girl, Karen Hansen, 
who has come to New York because her father 
and mother are dead. She teaches the children 
music, and likewise helps my wife to cook.” 

The position of the family fell in Bertrand’s 
eyes at once. They kept no cook. Instead of 
kissing the hand of the young woman (Bertrand, 


SCHMIDMEYERS’ BIRTHDAY PARTY 127 

like all French boys, had been brought up to kiss 
the hand of grown-up ladies) , he clicked his heels 
together and bowed very stiffly. 

“ My, what a bow ! ” giggled Carl. 

Guy guessed what was passing in Bertrand’s 
mind, and he whispered to him : 

“ The young woman is a lady , — I can see that. 
Don’t be a fool ! ” 

They stood together near the piano, so nobody 
heard their conversation. 

“ Aunt ” Karen seemed to love the children 
very much. They clung to her, all talking at 
once. 

“Io,no!” she said, holding the big pasteboard 
box over her head. “ You shall not open it until 
you drink the birthday chocolate. 1 It is some- 
thing to eat. And Carl must play no tricks to- 
day.” 

As she held the box up, Guy noticed that she 
wore the finger of a white kid glove on the first 
finger of her left hand. She seemed so kind, so 
amused, so cheerful, and so desirous of making 
everybody happy, that Guy found himself smil- 
ing, too. 

The next arrival was a young German, a friend 

1 1n Denmark a birthday is always marked by the 
drinking of chocolate. 


128 


THE ADVENTURERS 


of the Schmidmeyers. He appeared to be about 
eighteen years of age; he was tall, dark-eyed, 
rather severe-looking, and he held himself very 
stiffly. He bowed to everybody in turn, clicking 
his heels. He was very pale, and seemed to be 
recovering from an illness. 

“ Freiherr von Tropper,” said Mrs. Schmid- 
meyer, introducing him. 

Guy Vaucoubert wanted to leave the room : he 
could not meet a German, — he, a Frenchman, 
with his country at war! But the German 
walked over to him, and extended his hand. 

“ I see that you are French/’ he said, with a 
kindly smile, which greatly improved his looks. 
“ I am German, but let us be Americans to-day — 
and forget ! ” 

“ I am an American/’ answered Guy, proudly. 
“ Ah, yes, let us forget for the moment ! ” 

They clasped hands. Bertrand would have 
liked to proclaim himself as the son of a soldier 
of France, but he was forgotten — and he, too, 
soon forgot — in the splendor of the supper. 

First, when the folding doors were opened, 
they were dazzled by the table, laden with flowers 
and leaves and all kinds of beautiful looking 
food, in the midst of which sat a great turkey, 
surrounded by a garland of sausages. Around 


SCHMIDMEYEBS’ BXKTHDAY PABTY 129 

this, on the shining mahogany, was a ring of 
Karen Hansen’s smorrebrod, of all colors, made 
as only the Danes know how to make them. 
“ Butter bread ” they would be called in English, 
for want of a better word. Here, in a frill of 
white paper, was one that looked like a daisy, but 
it was really dried salmon and white of egg. And 
— but how can one describe Bertrand’s birthday 
cake, surrounded by five pink candles? Carl was 
allowed to cut it, assisted by his father. And 
then everybody drank his health in chocolate. 

When the supper was over, ’Phonse saw his 
gifts: a big sword from the young German; a 
book of Mother Goose songs from Guy; and, 
among the other things, a big dachshund, with 
glittering eyes, from his father and mother. 
This was “ Peter.” He was brown and fat, and 
not mounted on wheels (his legs could hardly 
hold him lip, though they were very strong and 
very short). ’Phonse clasped him to his heart, 
with shouts of joy. When all had taken their 
chocolate, ’Phonse went to bed, even on a glad 
day like this. Peter went, too, guided by Aunt 
Karen. 

Suddenly there sounded a series of shrieks 
from the bedroom. Mr. Schmidmeyer dis- 
appeared, to find out what was the matter. In a 


130 


THE AD VENTURERS 


few moments lie returned, looking very angry? 
and holding Carl by the ear. He was followed 
by Aunt Karen, seemingly much frightened. 

“ You are a wicked boy ! ” she said impatiently. 

“ Girls are cowards ! ” howled Carl. “ I didn’t 
do anything! I just laid a dead mouse on the 
floor and made it move with a string.” 

Bertrand laughed. He, too, had a great con- 
tempt for the cowardice of all women. 

“ I will talk to you presently,” his father said, 
grimly. 

“ Oh, don’t spoil the birthday ! ” Aunt Karen 
pleaded. “ Carl merely meant to be funny.” 

“ Women are such cowards ! ” Carl saw his 
father relenting. 

“ Suppose you go and rest a while, Karen,” 
Mrs. Schmidmeyer said. “ I will go with you. 
And while we are away,” she added significantly, 
“ Carl shall hear a story which may change his 
opinion.” 

There was silence until after Mrs. Schmid- 
meyer and Aunt Karen had left the room. . 

“You think that Aunt Karen is a coward, Carl, 
because she is startled at the sudden sight of a 
mouse ; and I suppose you think that all women 
are cowards because any brute can frighten them 
easily. Women are often braver than men.” 


SCHMIDMEYERS’ BIRTHDAY PARTY 131 

“ O father, how can tkat be? ” asked Carl. 

u Aunt Karen/’ tke fatker continued, “ kas one 
of ker fingers covered with tke end of a glove. 
Well, not so long ago there was a fire in a 
factory down-town. Tke confusion was terrible, 
and, before tke firemen came, some of tke young 
girls employed in tke place jumped from tke 
windows and were wretchedly hurt. One girl 
was about to jump when Aunt Karen, who was 
passing in tke street below, saw ker through tke 
shifting veil of smoke and fire. Everybody else 
was paralyzed. Karen called out : ‘ Stay ! I will 
come for you ! 9 Tke frightened girl heard tke 
voice, and paused. Karen went up tke fire- 
escape, though every voice in the immense crowd 
protested, and carried the poor girl to the street 
safe and sound. One hand was badly burned: 
she could not use it for days. It is almost healed 
now. Would you have done that, Carl? ” 

Carl’s face flushed ; he paused. 

“ Ko, father : I should have been afraid.” 

“ But Aunt Karen was not.” 

Tears came into Carl’s eyes. 

“ I will beg her pardon ! ” he said. 

“ Yes, do,” said his father. “ But wait until 
you see her alone. She will not like an apology 
before other people.” 


132 


THE ADVENTURERS 


Bertrand was filled with admiration of tlie 
bravery of tlie young girl, and of the truthful- 
ness of Carl. 

“Not many boys, Mr. Schmidmeyer,” he re- 
marked, “ would have said that — what Carl said. 
1 mean that I should be ashamed to say that I 
would not have dared to save the young girl.” 

Carl gave him a grateful glance. 

“ Now we shall have music,” said the host. 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer and Aunt Karen came back, 
and there was some consultation over the pro- 
gram. In the meantime Mr. Schmidmeyer and 
Guy had a chance to talk. 

“ I am worried about Bertrand, Mr. Schmid- 
meyer. He is progressing very well in his 
studies, and his improvement in English is re- 
markable. You know, of course, that his father 
is in France, likely to be killed at any moment* 
I love the boy, and I should like to keep him with 
me. But somewhere in the United States he has 
a relative, to whom his father wants him to be 
entrusted ; and I have no clue to the whereabouts 
of this man. Perhaps your wife knows some- 
thing about him.” 

“ She does not. She, too, was most anxious 
when she reached New York, for the same reason 
as you have.” 


SCHMIDMEYERS’ BIRTHDAY PARTY 133 


“ It is too bad. I have written to Captain de 
Value, but I fear my letter did not reach him. 
Besides,” continued Guy, “a boy of Bertrand’s 
age needs a woman to look after him ; it is just 
the time when a mother is most needed.” 

“ Perhaps we can arrange with my wife,” said 
Mr. Schmidmeyer. “ In a family like ours there 
is always room for one more.” 

“ How lucky it was that Bertrand met Carl the 
other day ! ” said Guy. “ People would hardly 
believe that such a coincidence could happen, if 
they read of it in a book. But children are never 
surprised by such coincidences. And they often 
happen.” 

“ Providence directs our lives ! ” exclaimed Mr. 
Schmidmeyer, reverently. “ In my life the most 
wonderful coincidences have occurred, but they 
have been in answer to prayers.” 

Von Tropper came up with a sheet of music in 
his hand. 

“ I recognize your song here, Mr. Vaucoubert.” 
He smiled very pleasantly. “ It is famous. It 
took a great prize, I know.” 

Guy’s face became very red. He was pleased, 
and at the same time rather annoyed that the 
discovery should have been made by a German, 
whom politeness obliged him to tolerate. 


134 


THE ADYENTUBEKS 


“ Oh, ye s,” added Yon Tropper, “ we heard all 
about it in Breslau, where we are. very musical! 
Some of our musicians competed, and failed. I 
know ; The Flower and the Star ? by heart.” 

“Are you the author of the lovely song?” 
asked Mr. Schmidmeyer. “We all sing it, — 
that is, all New York. Even the street organs 
can not make us weary of it.” 

“You see,” continued Yon Tropper, “how 
good it is ! I was terribly ill in Columbus, Ohio, 
where I had gone to meet a great engineer for 
some direction as to my American studies, — so 
horribly ill that I can never be able to fight for 
my — but let that pass,” he said hastily. “ I can 
never be a soldier; that is certain. And every 
German feels half dead if he can not be a soldier. 
I was ill, but I was well enough to read; and I 
heard that the Great Middle West Choral Society 
had offered a splendid piano and a thousand 
dollars for the first song. I tried for the prizes ; 
but you, Mr. Yaucoubert, won, and I am glad 
you did.” 

“ Thank you ! ” said Guy, heartily. After all 
this German could not fight. 

“We shall sing it to-night. And the curious 
part of the whole thing was that the nearest 
neighbor of the farmer to whose house I went 


SCHMIDMEYEES’ BIETHDAY PABTY 135 


afterward was the man whose opinion decided 
the matter, and who had the prize piano orna- 
mented.” 

“ Who is he? ” asked Guy, much interested. 

“ Wait, — I forgot his name for the moment ! ” 

Guy waited eagerly. Mr. Schmidmeyer was 
pleased. He would not have invited Yon 
Tropper if he had known beforehand that Guy 
was coming: he would not have risked a clash 
of nationalities in this terrible time. But a 
mutual interest in music had almost made his 
guests friends. “ I shall fight for France myself 
as soon as I can, — and I shall not have to fight 
this German.” 

“ Oh, yes, I remember now ! He was an old 
gentleman who had a big house near Clarence, — 
a Mr. Watson.” 

“ Watson ! ” exclaimed Guy. “ Watson ! Are 
you sure? In Ohio?” 

“ Yes; I’m sure it was Watson, — Walter Wat- 
son.” 

“ I believe you’ve found him,” said Mr. Schmid- 
meyer. 

“But it can’t be true. It is too much of a 
coincidence. It can’t be true ! ” 

“Why shouldn’t it be true?” asked Yon 
Tropper, laughingly. “ But you seem so pleased 


136 


THE ADVENTURERS 


that it looks as if you want to get rid of the boy, 
and I suspect your reason.” 

“ Well, you’re right. I’d like to keep him ; but, 
frankly, I feel that I ought to offer my service 
to France, now that she suffers.” 

“ And I to Germany, now that she suffers — if 
I wasn’t such a wretched creature.” 

“ Never mind!” rejoined Guy. “ You’ll be a 
strong man yet.” He laughed. “It is absurd 
that we two, bound to be enemies, should talk 
this way. But there is no reason why we should 
hate each other.” 

“ No,” answered Von Tropper. “ And I can 
sympathize with your feelings. But I hope that 
you may not have a chance to fight us.” 

“ And I echo your wish, applying to yourself. 
Since you can not fight us, there will be one brave 
soldier less.” 

Von Tropper was pleased; he bowed, and 
clicked his heels. 

Mrs. Schmidmeyer approached the group, very 
much delighted. She, like her husband, had been 
afraid that their two men guests would clash. 

“ We have found Mr. Watson ! ” said Guy. 

“ You found the addresses on the boxes in ‘ Le 
Soleil,’ then? ” 

“ What boxes? ” 


SCHMIDMEYERS’ BIRTHDAY PARTY 137 

Carl came up with his flute. 

“ The children’s trunks had gone, not by ‘ La 
Lune,’ but by * Le Soleil,’ of the French Line.” 

“ There ! ” exclaimed Mr. Schmidmeyer. “ It 
took a woman to remember that! We men were 
bothering about the mystery of Mr. Watson’s 
address, and a woman comes and settles it! A 
visit to the dock of the French Line would have 
relieved your anxiety, Mr. Vaucoubert.” 

“ This is true. One always forgets the easiest 
things to remember. I salute you, Madame 
Schmidmeyer ! Carl, here is another case where 
a woman has proved herself to be quicker than we 
men.” 


XI 


BERTRAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 

“ Now,” said Mrs. Schmidmeyer, “we shall 
sing. I will play the accompaniments. And 
we must make Bertrand ready to go to this Mr. 
Watson, after you have heard from him. 
Begin ! ” She seated herself at the piano. “ It 
shall be Mr. Vaucoubert’s song, and he will be 
the director of the concert.” 

She played the melody, and Bertrand’s high 
tones trilled above the voices of the others : 

il The wild rose in the bank of fern, 

So lonely felt by day and night, 

For every way that she could turn, 

She saw no other flowers in sight. 

Though fern was high and grass was soft, 

No blossom was there anywhere, 

Ah, many a time she sighed, and oft, 

She wept among the maiden hair. 

Ah, shall I live and die alone, 

Happy no more, happy no more, 

Only the fern, the grass, the stone, 

No sisters near a cottage door. 

138 


BERTRAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 


139 


One night, she raised her heart above, — 

The heart of a rose is sweet and true, — 
She saw the star : — ‘ I see my love, — 

Dear flower in heaven; God sent you.’ ” 

After this followed song after song, until it 
was time for Mrs. Schmidmeyer and Aunt Karen 
to bring in lemonade and cakes. Then the guests 
wished everybody a happy birthday, and went 
home, — Von Tropper promising to visit Guy, de- 
claring that there should be no talk of war. 

The next day Guy and Bertrand went down to 
the office of the French Line. Captain Grand- 
court happened to be on shore, — the “ La Lune ” 
having arrived two days before. He knew Guy, 
and the trunks and the boxes were recovered. 
They were addressed to A. and B. de Value, care 
of Walter Watson, Watson’s Corner, Clarence, 
Ohio. As Amffiie had the keys, the trunks had 
to be broken open, that the custom house officers 
might inspect them. Bertrand was very glad to 
recover his belongings again ; but he hoped that 
Mr. Walter Watson might not be found; he 
wanted to stay with Guy. Nevertheless, Guy 
wrote Mr. Watson a letter, in which he detailed, 
in somewhat stiff English, Bertrand’s adven- 
tures. This was on Monday. On the next 
Wednesday a dispatch arrived : 


140 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ Glad to see my grandnephew. Letter in 
mail.” 

A letter followed, with minute instructions, 
and containing a check. On Friday, Bertrand, 
weeping and disconsolate, said good-bye to Guy 
Vaucoubert, who had resolved to be a soldier of 
France, as Bertrand was no longer dependent on 
him. He regretted that Bertrand must leave 
him, but he felt that his duty lay in defending 
his country. Karen Hansen, who met him at the 
farewell supper, to which the kind Schmidmeyers 
asked him, was of a different opinion. 

“ Why go to the war? ” she queried. 

Von Tropper, who was present, answered at 
once: 

“ I envy him. He goes — as I would go, in spite 
of my illness, if I could find a steamer to convey 
me — to fight for his country. It is his duty. 
Though we are on different sides, I see that it is 
his duty.” 

“ You are right. God will bless me for fight- 
ing for my country,” said Guy. 

“ Yes,” continued Von Tropper ; “ and He 
would bless me, too, for obeying the call of my 
country.” 

“ A good Catholic must be a good patriot, and 
fight for his own country,” said Guy. “ I am 


BERTRAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 


141 


against — but no, Von Tropper, let us not talk 
about the war. We will remain friends until we 
shall be obliged to be enemies on the field of 
battle.” 

They parted friends. Karen Hansen promised 
to be an “ aunt ” to Bertrand, and to write to 
him ; and all the Schmidmeyers bound themselves 
to send monthly letters to Guy. Bertrand tried 
hard to keep back his tears. Under the care of 
the conductor — labelled like an express package, 
— he started for Clarence, Ohio. He had only 
one consolatory thought : 

u Guy may meet my father and Amelie.” 

And where was Amelie? It is time to tell of 
her adventures. She was very different from 
her brother. In the first place, she had never 
known fear. She believed firmly that, if she did 
her best, God would take care of her under all 
circumstances; and, in her short life, she had 
made special friends of her saints, — St. Jane 
Frances de Chantal and St. Francis of Assisi. 
Her mother had taught her to imitate the 
common sense of one and the charity of the 
other. 

She had been brought up to regard the Blessed 
Virgin as her chief protectress, and her saints 
as good friends, who understood her perfectly. 


142 


THE ADVENTURERS 


And there was likewise her mother, who watched 
over her daughter, too. Amelie had her faults ; 
and, if her mother were alive, perhaps she would 
have regarded Amelie’s courage as a fault. 
Madame la Brune had never looked on Amelie 
as faultless, but she attributed her boldness in 
adventure and her quick temper tocher American 
blood. 

Having decided that she ought to go to Senlis 
to help her father, Amelie started at once. It is 
certain that both her father and Madame la 
Brune would have objected, if they had been 
there. The father would have foreseen the 
dangers; Madame la Brune would have been 
shocked at the idea of the little girl’s thinking of 
such a journey. Amelie herself would have 
shuddered at the difficulties, if her father had 
described them, and she would have obeyed 
Madame la Brune. 

As it was, she had no knowledge of the dangers, 
and Madame la Brune was not near her. It was 
enough to know that her father was ill. As he 
was ill, he needed her, she thought. That she 
might be a burden to him, that she might not be 
able to help him, did not occur to her. She 
obeyed an impulse which most children would 
have obeyed, had there been no wise, older person 


BEBTRAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 143 

near to prevent them. She wanted to go to her 
father. 

In her room at the hotel, she read, after she 
had eaten and slept, the telegram from Vaucou- 
bert: 

“ Your father wounded at Senlis. I will care 
for him. He sends his blessing, — Vaucou- 
bert.” 

Now Amelie had not much confidence in Vau- 
coubert’s power of taking care of her father. 
Yaucoubert could sing, but she had never heard 
that he could do anything else. In fact, when he 
had done anything unusual, Pere Chalais had 
often said : “ Ah, these singers ! ” And, besides — 
suppose — suppose (a lump came into Amelie’s 
throat), — suppose — that her dear father would 
wish, above all things, to see his little girl before 
he died. Yes, yes, she was right, she said to her- 
self, to leave Bertrand with the kind Schmid- 
meyers and go to her father. 

She counted the one hundred franc notes 
pinned in her blouse; she had money, which she 
would take good care of. Her dressing case was 
well filled for a short journey ; she would add to 
its contents a box of sandwiches and a bottle of 
hot chocolate. She went down-stairs, and found 
her friend, the porter. 


144 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ You will get me a ticket for Senlis, please; 
for I must meet my father there/’ she said. 

He shook his head. 

“ Senlis is in the hands of the Germans ; be- 
sides, you can not get on board the trains : they 
are full of soldiers. You had better go home.” 

“ Home is where my father is.” 

“ And you have no mother? ” 

“ She is in heaven.” 

“ I will do what I can,” answered the porter. 
Perhaps, he thought, a nice little girl might pass 
where a grown person would be detained. 
“ Who knows? She seeks her only parent, — the 
good God will take care of her.” 

Amalie was quite ready when the porter re- 
turned. A large thermos bottle, filled with hot 
chocolate, and two dozen rolls had been added to 
the store of clothes in her box, and she had 
purchased a large rug and a warm woolen 
“ sweater.” 

“ Well? ” 

“ I could get a ticket only to Paris. When you 
reach Paris, you may perhaps find a way to 
Senlis.” 

“ It is the best you can do? ” 

“ The best I can do, Mademoiselle. The train 
will start in twenty minutes.” 


&ERTKAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 


146 


“ I am ready, — here is a taxi.” 

Am61ie gave the good porter five francs, and 
paid for her ticket. The porter found a place 
for her in a second-class compartment. He had 
managed well, for already seated there were two 
Sisters of Charity. 

“A young girl on her way to her father at 
Senlis, — a mere child,” he said, touching his cap. 
“ You will perhaps permit her to sit with you.” 

The Sisters, smiling, made room for her. 
After a short delay, this train, usually so rapid, 
began to crawl along the track. The Sisters 
were most kind during the long and wearisome 
journey. Amelie told them that she was on her 
way to meet her father at Senlis. 

“ Senlis ! ” exclaimed the elder, Sister Em- 
phrosye. “ It is impossible. The Germans are in 
the town, and we fear much for our poor Sisters, 
who have a hospital there.” 

“ I shall go there, nevertheless,” replied 
Amelie, calmly. “ My father is there.” 

Sister Emphrosye said a decade of her Bosary 
before she answered. 

“ I fear for you, child.” 

Sister Bose untied a small package of bread 
and butter. 

“ You are hungry.” 


146 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ My name is Amelie de Value, Sister, and I 
shall go to Senlis. You may think I am droll 
and perhaps a little mad; but I have American 
blood in my veins and that makes me differ- 
ent.” 

The Sisters nodded to each other. After all, if 
she were half American, she might succeed. The 
Americans, even the children, were more bold 
than the French. 

“ I am not hungry ; but my good Sisters, I fear 
that you are.” 

“ Alas, yes ! ” said Sister Emphrosye, laughing. 
“It is a long time since we have eaten. The 
wounded ones in Paris leave us no time; and, 
before we could eat, we were summoned to a Red 
Cross hospital, and we started at once. But we 
have enough bread for three.” 

Amelie opened her box. 

“ Hot chocolate ! ” she exclaimed gaily. “ And 
a nice silver cup to drink it, — the cup of my god- 
mother. We will all drink. And here are some 

brioches ” 

The Sisters refused the little rolls. They were 
delighted, however, to drink some chocolate. It 
was very hot. 

“ It puts strength into me,” said Sister Rose. 

“ And imagine that this little girl thought of 


BERTRAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 


147 


it ! ” said Sister Emphrosye. “ These Americans 
are really marvellous.” 

Amelie received tlie compliment very com- 
placently. 

“I will even take a message to your Sisters 
at Senlis, if you wish,” she said. 

Sister Emphrosye took an envelope and a large 
card from her bag, and, with an ink-pencil, 
wrote a little note, recommending Amelie to her 
Sisters. 

“ If they are alive, they will welcome you. 
But” (she sighed deeply) “I doubt it ! How- 
ever, we offer them our prayers and our love.” 

Amelie took the note and pinned it to the inside 
of her blouse. 

“ I should fear that she lacks humility,” 
whispered Sister Rose. 

“No,” replied Sister Emphrosye: “she has 
great simplicity.” 

“ Don’t you think that the good God and the 
Blessed Virgin and the saints will help a child 
that goes to her father? ” asked Amelie. 

“ Yes, my dear, — yes, my dear ! ” said Sister 
Emphrosye, embracing her. “You do. right to 
trust.” 

The Sisters had reached their station. The 
compartment became more crowded. The people 


148 


THE ADVENTURERS 


who came in were quiet women and men dressed 
mostly in black. Dusk had fallen, and, except 
when the train was stopped for various reasons, 
nobody spoke much. Amelie slept. The people 
in the train supposed that she was the daughter 
of a tall, dark woman who sat next to her. No- 
body imagined that a well-dressed French child 
would travel alone, and nobody asked her ques- 
tions. 

A little later two English Red Cross nurses 
entered the compartment. Amelie was awak- 
ened by their voices, — they spoke English. 

“ Yes, we were told to leave Belgium ; and the 
Germans were very decent until one of the older 
nurses called names at some of the German 
soldiers, from the car window at a station near 
Berlin. That was bad for us ; but, thanks to the 
doctor who was with us, and spoke German, we 
got through.” 

Amelie, half asleep, determined to be very 
polite to the German soldiers, if she met any on 
the way. She remembered nothing more until 
they reached Paris. It was her second visit to 
the city. She recalled very well the name of the 
Hotel Louis le Grand, where she had stayed with 
her father. On second thought, she con- 
cluded that the Gare du Nord was the best place 


BERTRAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 


149 


for her; for, as she learned from the old porter 
who took her box, she could there take the train 
for Senlis. 

“Ah, Mademoiselle,” the old man said (there 
seemed to be no young porters), “you will find 
the Germans at Senlis ! ” 

“ It is true, perhaps,” Amelie answered. 
“But they will not stay long. Besides, the 
Germans are human beings, and they will surely 
respect a child that goes to her father.” 

She secured her ticket for Senlis. There was 
much talk about military passes, and many per- 
sons were refused permission to leave Paris. 
She could hear talk of this around her. She was 
not questioned: it was assumed that so very 
young a girl, in this country of careful parents, 
had somebody to look after her. There were 
crowds of people about her. Many were coming 
back to Paris, having left in a panic of fear. 
There was an elderly maid servant, in charge of 
two small dogs in a basket and a canary bird in 
a cage, tied with the tricolor ribbon of France; 
there an old man, with two chairs tied together, 
and under his arm a long loaf of bread. Her big 
rug, by which she stood, while she waited, excited 
some comment. 

“ How can you keep that,” one woman asked, 


150 


THE ADVENTURERS 


a while our soldiers suffer these nights of the 
cold? ” 

“ I am taking it to a soldier of France, at Sen- 
lis,” she answered. 

“ God bless thee ! ” replied the woman. 

Other old men, women, and children were com- 
ing in, evidently in great fear. They were, as a 
rule, dressed in their best clothes, and they 
carried all kinds of household goods. Amelie’s 
heart sank, as she saw them. They looked as if 
they were flying from horrid things. 

“ Why are you so sad? ” she asked a little girl 
who stood near her, carrying a pasteboard box 
in one arm, and a large rag doll on the other. 

“ You would be sad if your house was 
burned down, and ” 

But the child was hurried away. 

Groups of wounded soldiers passed by, some of 
them on stretchers, others limping, others with 
bandaged heads and arms; many supported by 
their comrades. Their uniforms were cut and 
stained, and their faces were pale, but they were 
cheerful. They sang aloud. 

“ I will sing aloud in my heart,” Amalie said 
to herself. “ If I do not sing, I must weep, and 
that will be bad; for I shall be sad when papa 
sees me.” 


BERTRAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 151 

She caught sight of an elderly couple just 
ahead of her, and she followed them. In a few 
minutes she saw in the car. The fields shone 
in the morning sunlight; they were fertile. 
AVomen worked in the vegetable gardens, for 
there were few men. Market carts moved slowly 
toward Paris, — somewhat more slowly than the 
train, which “ like the wounded snake dragged 
its slow length along.” Amelie tried to keep her 
heart singing, — she did not entirely succeed; 
then she said her prayers; there was the little 
chaplet in her pocket. “ When the heart can no 
longer sing, it can pray,” — she remembered 
Madame la Brune’s saying. The leaves were be- 
ginning to turn and to fall. In some places they 
made patches of yellow in the sunlight. 

Three hours passed, and then the train stopped 
in the ruins of what had been a railway station. 
Bombs and fire had done their work. For the 
first time in her life, Amelie knew what destruc- 
tion was. War had seemed to her to be a glo- 
rious thing, — a thing of music and flashing 
swords and waving flags. 

Her father had spoken of war as of something 
great and splendid, and of course Bertrand had 
boasted of the honor of being a soldier. So this 
was what war brought! Ameiie’s courage left 


152 


THE ADVE3TUKEBS 


her. She put down her rug and sat on it; she 
felt giddy. At any moment the German soldiers 
might rush upon her, she thought; or a bomb 
might fall. And, then, suppose her father should 
come seeking her and not find her ! She jumped 
up at once. 

She made her way through the fallen stones, 
and saw an old cab drawn by a wretched-looking 
horse. There was no porter to carry her bag- 
gage. She made her way to the cab. The driver 
had disappeared; so she adjusted her bundle and 
box, and waited. 

“ I could drive the old horse myself/ 7 she 
thought, “ if I knew where to go. 77 But she did 
not know where to go. She sat in solitary state 
on the ancient leather seat, waiting for the 
Germans or the driver to appear. 

Two women in black, each carrying net bags 
well filled with odds and ends, stopped. 

“ Ah, you can afford to drive, little girl ! 77 one 
of them said. “We, too, could once afford to 
drive ; but, though we are weary, we must walk. 77 

They looked weary; their black clothes were 
covered with dust. The eyes of the younger 
seemed very sad and tired. 

“ Are you from Paris, little girl? Perhaps we 
can help you? 77 


BERTRAND FINDS HIS UNCLE 


153 


Amelie could not keep back ker tears, these 
two looked so pathetic and yet were so kind. 

“ I am from Paris : I seek my father. Perhaps, 
when the driver comes, it may please you to go 
with me ; I will gladly pay your fare.” 

u We have no place to go. The enemy came 
suddenly, and we ran from our house. The house 
was probably destroyed by bombs. My husband 
is perhaps in the ruins.” 

“ I shall never see my father in this world 
again ! ” Tears prevented the younger woman 
from saying more. “ And my husband is a 
soldier.” 

“ What is your father’s name? ” 

“ Jacques Oliver.” 

“If I hear of him, I will tell you. I would 
like to know where my father is. He is Captain 
de Value.” 

“ It will be difficult to find him, — very diffi- 
cult,” said the elder woman. “ So many 
soldiers were ” 

The younger woman stopped her. 

“ So many soldiers passed through here — 
after the Germans.” 

“ And have the Germans really left? ” 

“We came out of the cellar and fled to the 
country,” said the younger woman. “We met 


154 


THE ADVENTURERS 


some German soldiers, but they were good to my 
two little children: they gave them milk. Ah, 
it is not the poor German soldiers I blame for 
this ! My children are safe at their grandfather’s 
farm. I had to come back to hunt for my poor 
old father.” 

“We both have come.” 


XII 


SEARCHING FOR CAPTAIN DE VALUE 

As Amalie sat there waiting for the driver to 
come, a wretched-looking woman, with cunning 
eyes, came up. Her grey hair was half hidden 
by a black straw hat. 

“ Good-day, Mademoiselle ! ” she said. “ I see 
you are a stranger at Senlis. And you will need 
a place for the night, if you are going far, and the 
hotel is damaged. You will stay with me. In 
my little cafe, there is a room vacant. It will be 
cheap.” 

Amalie, suddenly faced with the fact that she 
had nowhere to go, was about to descend from 
the cab, when one of the other women, Madame 
Oliver, interfered: 

“ No, no, Mademoiselle, you must not go ! ” 

The grey-haired woman with the cunning eyes 
put her arms akimbo. 

“ The child evidently has no one. I heard her 
say that she has nowhere to go. Is not my poor 
house as good as another’s?” 

It was evident to Madame Oliver, though not 
to AmMie, that this woman had been drinking. 

155 


156 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ I will tell you,” slie added, shaking her fists, 
“that you are a bad woman I The child will 
come with me ! ” 

She seized Amelie’s box with one hand, threw 
it on the ground, and tried to help the girl from 
the carriage. 

“Come, little one!” she said. “I will be a 
good grandmother to you, — I who love children ! 
You shall stay in my house until you are rested.” 

Amalie found herself caught in the old 
woman’s muscular arms. She struggled. 

“ Wait, please ! ” she said. “ I will go, but I 
will not be forced to go.” 

A man’s voice caught her ears. A priest had 
come across from the station; his soutane was 
old and worn, but his face was ruddy and cheer- 
ful. 

“ Wait! ” he called. “ What do I see? M&re 
Gaspard, you will cease to trouble this child. 
Go!” 

The old woman seemed frightened; she began 
to hobble off at once, shaking her fist at the priest 
as soon as his back was turned, and cursing 
under her breath. 

“ You have escaped from a wicked woman, 
child,” the priest said. “ But why are you alone 
here? ” 


SEARCHING FOR CAPTAIN DE VALUE 157 

Amelie, trembling, looked up into the priest’s 
kindly face. 

“ I am looking for my father, who, I hear, has 
been wounded ; and I was obliged to come alone.” 

The priest turned to the two women. 

“ I am so busy that I can do little for the child 
at present. Take her with you to your farm, 
and ” 

“ I can pay, mon Pere , — I can pay, if these 
good women will let me stay with them until I 
find my father.” 

The priest shook his head sadly. 

“ But does our farm, the Clos Pommier, still 
exist, Father? ” asked the elder woman. “ Is it 
not entirely destroyed? ” 

“ The orchard is still there,” answered the 
priest. “ The apple trees are uninjured, — Nicole 
gathered the apples just in time. And you can 
live in the house. The bombs have, however, de- 
stroyed much.” 

“And Jacques?” 

“We have not found him. But be patient and 
resigned. Pray and work,” said the priest. 
“ You will find much to do. And you can take 
care of this young girl, or she may fall into evil 
hands. There are wicked ones among us. Take 
her with you to the Clos Pommier ” 


158 


THE ADVENTUEEKS 


“Yes,” Am61ie interrupted, — “yes. Thank 
you, Father ! I will go, and we can together look 
for our lost ones. And I will not be a burden on 
you : I can pay.” 

“Perhaps we have nothing to offer,” said 
Madame Oliver; “and we might charge you too 
much.” 

“ Oh, say two francs a day ! ” observed the 
priest, who knew well the scrupulous character 
of Madame Oliver. “Jean!” he called, and a 
stout man rolled rather than walked out of the 
caf6. “ Why,” he asked, with a smile, “ are all 
cabmen so stout? ” 

Amelie looked at the fat Jean, in his big, oil- 
cloth-covered hat, and laughed. 

“Laugh when you can, my child,” said the 
priest. “ Even in days like these, one should 
not be too sad. I will go to see you. What is 
your name? ” 

“ Amelie de Value, Father.” 

“ Thank you, Amelie ! Be of good cheer. Say 
your prayers, and we shall find your father. 
These ladies will drive with you to the Clos 
Pommier. They are weary; and you, in your 
charity, will pay their fare. Jean, you will not 
charge much.” 

“ As little as I can,” answered Jean, rolling on 


SEARCHING FOR CAPTAIN DE VALUE 159 


the box. “ Ah, mon Pere , we owe you much, 
here in Senlis ! You have done more than your 
duty.” 

“ When you are seventy years of age — if you do 
not kill yourself with beer, — you will have 
learned to do what you ought to do. Now drive 
on! ” 

“ It was coffee, Father, not beer.” 

“ So much the better. Drive on ! ” 

Madame Oliver and her daughter sank back in 
the cab. 

“Oh, how tired we are! We have walked 
many kilometers to-day. Mother, how good it is 
to rest ! ” 

Amelie was very much touched. She had 
always driven when she wanted to drive; but, 
like a sensible and healthy child, she had, as a 
rule, preferred to walk. 

“ Ah, the good priest ! ” said J ean, as they 
jogged along. “ He saved what is left of Senlis ; 
and there is more left than appears.” 

“ Oh,” exclaimed both the women, covering 
their faces, “there are the houses of the Rue 
Faubourg St. Martin ! They are in ruins. And 
the beautiful hotel, and the cathedral, — ah, the 
cathedral! Yes, I see the tower.” 

“ It is safe. The good cur^g white hair must 


160 


THE ADVENTURERS 


have softened the hearts of the Germans. It was 
he that assured them that there had been no shots 
fired from the tower ; but they almost refused to 
believe it. You see, Captain de Value and his 
men ” 

“ Captain de Value ! — my father ! ” interrupted 
Amelie. 

“A brave soldier, Mademoiselle. You see, 
when the beginning of the twenty-five thousand 
German soldiers came, Captain de Value and his 
men were taken by surprise ; but then they made 
a good fight. It was their bullets which had 
been, the Germans said, fired from the tower.” 

“ Oh, where is my father? ” 

Jean was silent. 

“ I can only tell you that he fought well. I 
was among the beech trees, and saw it. And 
there was one German lad who fell, and a soldier 
was about to bayonet him — he was already 
wounded, — but your father picked him up. Then 
there was fire and smoke, and the houses were in 
flames. I saw the Germans come — they were 
here eight days, and I saw them go. I hid in 
my old house; but when they found me, they 
left me ; for their officer said that I was fit only 
for tough sausage. They are difficult, these 
Germans. But the good cur£ impressed them, 


SEARCHING FOR CAPTAIN DE VALUE 161 


and lie gave himself up as a hostage for us. And 
when they had to go, they respected him.” 

“.Whose house was there?” asked Madame 
Oliver. “ It’s in ruins.” 

“ The Brothers Cartier.” 

“ The tailors? And where are they? ” 

All that could be seen was a high pile of stones, 
splintered wood, and mortar. 

“ They are there still.” 

Madame Oliver covered her face with her 
hands. 

“ Yes,” continued the driver ; “ they will never 
come out of their house alive.” 

After this, through the ruined streets, they 
drove out into the country. Some women and old 
men were in the fields. In half an hour’s time 
they reached a group of buildings, behind which 
lay an apple orchard and some fields. 

“ The apple orchard ! ” said the driver. 

Part of the house — almost the whole of one 
side — had been destroyed; the rest looked much 
as usual. The stables and the outhouses seemed 
to be uninjured. The driver rolled slowly from 
his seat, and opened the big, barred gate. He 
carried Amelie’s luggage into the house. It was 
a sad home-coming. Amelie felt this, as she went 
after the women into the gloomy hall. How ter- 


162 THE ADVENTURERS 

rible were the sorrow and suspense that hung 
over them ! 

Still, there was some comfort in being at home. 
The little salon was much the same. The rooms 
adjoining it had not been touched, but the sleep- 
ing chambers at the side were in ruins. Madame 
Oliver could not suppress an exclamation of 
pleasure when she discovered that her kitchen 
was safe. Even the charcoal she had been using 
when the alarm came was untouched. Back in 
the orchard, the leaves were falling, and there 
were a few late apples on the ground. Through 
the branches, Madame Oliver could see the gable 
of the house of M. de Girardin. “ That at least 
is safe,” she said gratefully. The Girardins had 
lived near Senlis for hundreds of years ; but she 
missed the towers of the Chateau de Yassy. How- 
ever, there was a fog, and these great landmarks 
might still exist, to console her, and yet not be 
seen. 

Suddenly an old woman, wrinkled but rosy- 
cheeked, rushed from the orchard. 

“ Nicole ! ” exclaimed the two women, joyously. 

They embraced Nicole affectionately. 

“ And where is he? ” 

“ I do not know,” replied Nicole, simply. “ The 
Girardins have gone to Paris. The Count de 


SEARCHING FOR CAPTAIN BE VALUE 163 

Vassy is in the army. Where his family is I do 
not know; and even less do I know where the 
good patron is.” 

“ Is he dead? ” demanded Madame Oliver, pite- 
ously. “ Tell me ! ” 

Amelie saw how unhappy this question made 
the old servant. 

“ She does not know, Madame. But there is 
evidently hope. We will seek for him, as I shall 
seek for my father.” 

Madame Oliver sobbed, but made no answer. 

“ When the Germans came, their fire destroyed 
part of our house, because our soldiers were 
here,” said Mcole. “ Then our soldiers went 
over to the Chateau de Vassy, and there was ter- 
rible firing. I hid in the cellar, and said my 
prayers. It seemed days. And the nights were 
long. There was bread and milk and wine in 
the cave. There I remained until the good curd 
came and told me that the Germans had gone. 
Then I came out, and collected the eggs and fed 
the chickens and milked the cows just as usual. 
You will find things in good order.” 

u Our kind Mcole ! ” 

Madame Oliver and Marie embraced the serv- 
ant again. 

“ Now, Mcole, show Mademoiselle to her 


164 


THE ADVENTURESS 


room. She has been lent to ns for a while by the 
cure.” 

Mcole trotted up-stairs to a nice little room, 
white and clean and full of fresh air, with a 
crucifix and a piece of blessed palm at the head of 
the bed. 

“ I am glad you are here, child,” said Nicole. 
“ You will help me with these people. You look 
as if you had common sense. As for the poor 
patron, I fear that he is dead.” 

“ It is wrong to fear. I shall believe that my 
father is alive until I know . Let us hope in the 
good God.” 

As Amelie unpacked her box, she felt very 
much discouraged for a moment. The whole 
world was changed. Nothing seemed fixed ; 
houses and shops and farms, one day so cheerful 
and comfortable, the next injured or destroyed. 
Surely one needed all one’s courage. But above 
all was the good God. 

Nicole, encouraged and cheered by the return 
of her mistress, managed to make a large ome- 
lette for supper. Madame Oliver was so busy in 
taking account of her losses, and rejoicing over 
what she had not lost, she did not notice that 
Amelie had slipped away. In fact, just as the 
dusk fell, Amelie had sailed off into the Land of 


SEARCHING FOR CAPTAIN DE VALUE 165 

Dreams, through, the door of her little white 
room. 

The next day was so lovely that Amelie, as she 
rose, looked out of her window and said : “ Thank 
God for the sun!” She ran down-stairs and 
helped Marie Oliver to make the coffee, while 
Nicole went out to see that the live stock still 
existed. Nicole dreaded the coming of soldiers, 
whether French or German; and each morning 
brought her a new fear that her fowls or pigs or 
cows had been captured. 

Amelie, having assisted in the household work, 
went out for a walk; but she was warned by 
Nicole that she would be obliged to take a knit- 
ting lesson in the afternoon. “ For,” said Nicole, 
“ the winter is coming, and our brave soldiers 
will suffer if they have no heavy socks and scarfs 
and wrist-warmers. Even the very young work 
in the fields and the very old have become strong, 
or we should have had no harvest this year.” 

Amelie promised that she would take a lesson 
in the afternoon. Now she was impatient to get 
away, to examine the neighborhood of Senlis. 
Her father and Vaucoubert had been there, — she 
hgd no doubt about that. Where were they now? 

She shuddered, as she thought of the evil old 
woman. “ I must always try,” she thought, “ to 
be on good terms with my Guardian Angel.” 


XIII 


THE FINDING OF CAPTAIN DEI VALUE 

Old people and young children were working in 
the fields, gathering the aftermath. The harvest 
had been late. The makers of bread were glad 
that it had been saved from destruction. Am61ie, 
attracted by an enormous clump of blue asters, 
climbed the stone fence that separated the Clos 
Pommier ( as the apple orchard was called ) from 
the estate of Count de Vassy. She had brought 
her breakfast roll with her, as she intended to 
take a long walk ; and the second, or real, break- 
fast is never before eleven o’clock in France. It 
was a rather large roll, and she held it, un- 
wrapped, in a piece of white paper. 

Among the asters two small children were 
almost hidden ; their brown, smooth heads, shin- 
ing in the sunlight, looked like two tortoises — 
“ turtles,” Amalie, when she spoke English , 
called them — swimming in a softly moving lake 
of blue. They were small boys. They came 
forward dripping with asters. 

106 


THE FINDING OF CAPTAIN DE VALUE 167 

“ Good little girl ! ” they said, in high tones 
that sounded like one voice. 

AmAlie was rather shocked at first. After one 
had been called “Miss,” “ little girl” did not 
seem so agreeable. Still, Amelie reflected, she 
might have made the same mistake when she was 
as young as these children. 

“I am Jean. There is nothing to do in the 
fields this morning; so, that we may earn our 
breakfast, we are gathering the asters.” 

“ For what, Jean? ” inquired Amalie, looking 
down into the little brown face. 

“ I am Pierre,” interposed the younger, lifting 
his face and showing a pair of eyes bluer than the 
asters and the little blouse he wore. 

“We are picking these flowers for the graves,” 
Jean said, taking up the conversation, — “ for the 
graves of the soldiers; and some, too, for our 
friends who are living soldiers and not in 
heaven.” 

“ I am hungry,” Pierre went on, noticing the 
fresh roll in Amelie’s hand. 

“You are naughty!” Jean said, looking 
hungry himself. “ You should not ask.” 

Amelie had filled the pocket of the apron, 
which Nicole had made her put on, with two 
large pieces of sweetened chocolate from the 


168 


THE ADVENTUBERS 


precious box of her travels. Tbe boys received 
the gift of it enthusiastically; they were evi- 
dently very hungry. 

“But, Pierre, we must keep some for our 
friends. 7 ’ 

Pierre reluctantly broke his piece in two. 

“Your friends? And your mother? 77 asked 
Amelie. 

“ My mother is gone, and our father is in 
heaven, too , 77 said Pierre. “ You see, I was six 
years old that day or the day after; and the 
soldiers came, and the house fell down ; so mother 
and father never came out. We waited all day 
and all night for them . 77 

Amelie put her arms around the children; 
they seemed of the same age. 

“ Oh, dear, dear little boys ! 77 

“ Big boys ! 77 said Pierre. 

“ Who takes care of you? 77 

The children were brown and plump and clean. 

“ Our friends . 77 

“ Your friends? 77 

“Yes. You seem to be a nice little girl. We 
shall ask them, that you may see them. But 
they are still sick. Jean and I bring them 
flowers and apples and green things from our 
father’s garden ; and we sleep in their house, and 


THE FINDING OF CAPTAIN DE VALUE 169 

we say our prayers to the big captain. And 
sometimes we find eggs inour hen-house for them. 
They do not come out. Three are afraid of the 
Germans, and one of the French.” 

“ I am sleepy,” said Jean. 

Amelie sat down among the wheat straws and 
the flowers. She divided her roll between them. 
Both little heads rested against her. 

“ Sing,” said Pierre, who was the more talka- 
tive of the two. “ Sing, as mother used to 
sing.” 

“ Bur le Pont d’ Avignon” murmured Jean. 

Amelie began the famous old song about danc- 
ing on the bridge of Avignon, near the old French 
Palace of the Popes when they were away from 
Rome for a time. 

“ More ! ” they both exclaimed, when she had 
finished. And then she sang three times “ There 
was once a Shepherdess.” 

It was growing very warm; and, although 
Amelie felt proud of having been adopted by 
these nice children, she w T as becoming tired of 
her constrained position, and likewise of her own 
music. 

“ Let us go ! ” 

“No,” said Pierre. “We are happy here. 
The Old One bathed us in the lake; we have 


170 


THE ADVENTUKEBS 


eaten. Now you will sing to us many times. We 
will stay.” 

“ I must go sometime ,” said Amelie, rather 
crossly. “ You can run home to your friends. 
I will sing one more song.” 

“ You are cross,” said Pierre, pouting. “ Sing, 
then, ‘ There was a Shepherdess ’ twice more.” 

Amelie’s first impulse was to leave the chil- 
dren. She hesitated for a moment. 

“ Oh, if you are too cross to sing, tell us the 
story of the good St. Christopher,” murmured 
little Jean. “He found a boy like me, — just a 
little boy.” 

“ Oh, I know it ! ” she said. 

It was one of her father’s favorite stories. 
Bertrand loved it. She knew that if she told it 
once, she would be forced to tell it many times ; 
for children always want the same story told 
over and over again. Both the little boys seemed 
determined to remain with her all day; they 
leaned closer to her, and insisted on having the 
story of St. Christopher told four times. 

“ Now we shall sleep.” Pierre closed his eyes. 
“After that you will give us more bread and 
chocolate.” 

“Now we shall sleep. We are very good to 
go to sleep,” added Jean. 


THE FINDING OF CAPTAIN DE VALUE 171 


u Big boys are not sung to sleep,” pleaded 
Amelie, in desperation. 

“You are not a big boy; I am, and I know,” 
said Jean. “Big boys are always sung to 
sleep.” 

Amelie was not always good-tempered. She 
was tired ; she was hungry ; her chance of finding 
a clue to her father’s whereabouts had not in- 
creased ; she saw that these two had determined 
to take possession of her, and she resolved to steal 
away as soon as the sandman had completed his 
work. But first, to ease her conscience, she 
asked : 

“ Why not let me take you to your friends? ” 

Pierre pouted. 

“We are displeased with you: you will not 
sing. You are a bad girl ! Big boys are always 
sung to sleep.” 

A partridge whirred in the stubble. 

“ Oh ! ” — the children became suddenly awake. 

“ A great bird ! ” cried Jean. 

“ You are now a good girl.” Pierre caressed 
Amalie’s cheeks with his stained fingers. “ You 
are a good girl. You will not let the big bird 
carry us off. Sing ! ” 

Submissively, Amalie began Vaucoubert/s 
song: 


172 


THE ADVENTURERS 


‘ ‘ If I were stars in heaven, 

And you were flowers on earth ” 

“ No ! no ! ” cried both the boys. 

“ What do you want now? ” demanded Amelie, 
her patience breaking down. 

“ No ! no ! ” they wailed in concert. “ It is not 
right, — the Old One does not sing it that way. 
It; is this way.” 

They both chanted, in their shrill voices : 

“ If you were queen of roses, 

And I were king, 

And all the roses in the world were mine, 

And everything, 

We’d offer them upon Our Lady’s shrine.” 

Amelie felt as if the world had suddenly 
stood still. 

“ Who taught you that? ” 

“ The Old One,” said Pierre, “ when he wants 
us to go to sleep.” 

“He is cross sometimes. He slaps us,” said 
Jean, seeking for sympathy. 

“ Oh, take me to see him, dear children ! ” cried 
Amelie, rising. 

The “ dear children ” remained obstinately 
rooted to the ground. 

“ No ; he will slap you, too,” said Pierre. “ He 


THE FINDING OF CAPTAIN DE VALUE 173 

does not know that the Germans have gone; he 
will not believe it; he thinks that you are a 
German.” 

“He thinks that you are a German,” added 
Jean, looking into her eyes to see how she would 
take this assertion. “ No : he would slap us.” 

“ There is one with him who was a German,” 
continued Pierre. “ But the Old One slapped 
him, and he is now a good Frenchman. He is a 
giant.” 

The boys looked solemnly at Amelie; they ex- 
pected the effect of this to be terrible. 

“ He would kill you as soon as look at you,” 
said Jean. “ He would fly away with you, like 
the big bird we just saw.” 

Amelie would have shaken these two, if she 
dared. 

“ You do not love me! ” she said suddenly. 

“Oh, yes, we do!” the boys cried. “You 
gave us chocolate. Come, we will take you to our 
friends.” 

Amalie trembled with excitement. The chil- 
dren took her hands. They led her through the 
stubble, to a long lane between two rows of 
poplars, then to an avenue of beeches which led 
to the Chateau de Vassy. The tall pillars on 
either side of the gate had fallen down ; a bomb 


174 


THE ADVENTURERS 


had scattered the ironwork, and the road inside 
the gate was covered with the remains of the 
lodge and the outhouses. 

“We can not go in,” Amelie said. 

The boys pulled her through dangerous pas- 
sages, into which they went like squirrels. At 
last they reached a great open space in front of 
the chateau, which had lost three of its towers. 
The remains of these lay in great heaps on the 
lawn. Amelie, very tired, sat on one of the great 
stones. She was trembling. Perhaps she should 
soon see Vaucoubert, and she would know about 
her father. 

“Where are they — your old friends?” she 
asked. 

The children had forgotten her. They had 
found a board, which they had placed on the base 
of a pillar and constructed a seesaw. They were 
shrieking with delight. 

“Where are your friends?” asked Am61ie, al- 
most in despair. 

“ Higher, — higher ! ” exclaimed Pierre. 

Amalie rose and stopped the play. 

“ Tell me at once, where are your friends? ” 

“ You can not play with us : you are a girl. 
Go home! Let our board alone ! Higher!” the 
dear children shouted. 


THE FINDING OF CAPTAIN DE VALUE 175 

Amalie went back to her seat and covered her 
face with her hands. Her tears might move the 
boys, she thought : they paid no attention to her. 
Almost desperate, she took up the song : 

“ Si vous etiez reine des roses, 

Et moi le roi. ’ ’ 

She kept her voice clear and steady, saying a 
“ Hail Mary ” softly between each stanza. There 
was no response. 

“ Higher!” called the children. “ Houp-la! 
Iloup-la! ” 

Now she wept really. This sudden hope 
seemed gone ! She bent her head in her hands, — 
a lonely little girl, shedding tears among ruins ! 
Far off sounded the cannon: the war had not 
ceased. 

u Amelie ! ” 

Beside her stood her father; he embraced her 
with his left arm. 

“ O papa ! ” 

She looked up into his face, — a very thin, white 
face. She put her hand out for his right hand. 
There was only an empty sleeve. 

“ O papa ! ” she said again. 

The little boys left their seesaw and came over 
to Captain de Value. They smiled engagingly. 


176 


THE ADVENTURESS 


“We brought your little girl; we are good 
boys.” 

“ I heard Vaucoubert’s song,” said Captain de 
Value. “ Our Lady guided you.” 

“No,” said Pierre. “We brought her. The 
Holy Virgin may have told us to bring her, but 
we brought her ; we are good boys.” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” Captain de Value smiled for the 
first time in many days. “ You are good boys. 
Go and play ! Dearest, little girl ! ” 

“ O father, you will never leave me any more ! ” 
“ Dear child, I am afraid that you will be 
burdened by an invalid father. I have lost half 
an arm — the right unhappily, — and my left foot 
is useless.” 

“ How you suffered ! And I away from you ! ” 
“ That is past, thank God! Vaucoubert, who 
had found my regiment, having lost himself on 
the railways, was here when the enemy came and 
when we drove them out. He thought I was 
dying, but now I am happy. Come into the 
chateau. My friend, the Count de Vassy, would 
not object to our being his guests, if he knew of 
it. We have a colony here. Come, dearest ! ” 
Captain de Value could walk only very slowly, 
and with the aid of a stick. Arnelie almost 
sobbed aloud as she felt her great, big father, the 


THE FINDING OF CAPTAIN DE VALUE 177 


bravest soldier in France, lean heavily on her 
shoulder. 

“ Tell the Old One that we were not bold, and 
that he must not slap us! ” called Pierre and 
Jean, from the seesaw. 

“ Very well ! ” the Captain answered. “ Those 
funny children, Vaucoubert, a young wounded 
German officer, a frightened and sick farmer, and 
a convalescent cat, make up our colony. We are 
w T ell fed and well warmed these cold nights ; and 
we can perhaps find a little room for you.” 

Silently they went through the hall into the 
drawing-room of the castle. It was a very fine, 
large, square room, with windows reaching from 
the ceiling to the floor. One of the splendid 
crystal chandeliers had been struck down and 
lay sparkling in the corner. Otherwise, there 
w T as no sign that a battle had been near. At one 
of the open windows, a thin young man sat in an 
easy-chair. He wore a long dressing-gown and 
he looked very weak. Vaucoubert, older-looking 
than ever, sat at the open piano. A man in a 
peasant’s blouse, holding a long-handled coffee- 
pot, ran away as they entered. A white cat, with 
pinkish eyes, stood on the piano, arching its back. 

Vaucoubert turned. He was amazed. 

“ Little Amelie ! ” he cried. “ And you are not 


178 


THE ADVEKTUKEE8 


on the ocean? ” He hugged the little girl, and 
raised his hands in blessing several times. “ I 
will compose a new sacred song for this day. We 
shall have a happy breakfast together. Oliver 
will bring the coffee. See, I have the little table 
in the corner.” 

They were silent while the Angelus sounded. 

“Now, papa,” said Amelie, “wire at once to 
Mrs. Schmidmeyer that Bertrand must not be 
sent back, because I am not there. There is no 
place for him.” 


XIV 


ANXIETY ABOUT BERTRAND 

Oliver came in timidly. He was a man of 
sixty. He seemed about to run away when he 
saw Amalie. She cast a quick glance at him; 
she recognized him by his daughter’s resemblance 
to him. He turned away, evidently frightened 
by the new face. 

“ It is Monsieur Oliver, of the Clos Pommier,” 
Amalie said quickly. “ I am glad to meet you. 
Your wife and daughter are well and at the 
farm.” 

66 Xever again ! 99 

“ But you are wrong, Monsieur Oliver. Your 
wife and daughter are at the Clos Pommier. 
They await you.” 

The man straightened up. He looked long into 
Amalie’s face. 

“ You do not lie? ” he asked. 

“ She is my daughter,” said Captain de Value, 
sternly. 


179 


180 


THE ADVENTURERS 


Oliver took the coffee to the table in the corner 
of the drawing-room. He straightened the cloth 
and arranged the plates. He then returned to 
Amelie. 

“ And our enemies? ” 

“ They have gone,” repied Amelie. 

“ I shall see the Clos Pommier again ! ” 

A look of joy irradiated his face. Like most of 
the French farmers, he loved his farm almost as 
much as his family. 

“ His wits are coming back ! ” 

Vaucoubert had come in with large plates of 
omelette and fried potatoes. 

The German officer, more of a shadow than 
even Captain de Value, rose slowly from his 
chair. 

“ Lieutenant Schlimp, this is my daughter.” 
One side of the Lieutenant’s face was bandaged ; 
only one eye was visible, but it was a bright, 
cheerful brown eye. The other, in fact, was 
blind. The Lieutenant tried to bow. “ I can 
not speak French,” he began; “but I know a 
little English.” 

“ I speak English,” Amalie interposed. She 
knew that the young man was about to speak 
well of her dear father, and she wanted to hear 
what he would say. 


ANXIETY ABOUT BERTRAND 


181 


“ Your father saved my life, little girl,” he said 
— “ or what there is of it. There is not much* 
You French people may be kind to me withaclear 
conscience, since I can never light again; but I 
will tell you what your father has done for 


“ First, we must breakfast,” said the Captain. 
“ And then, Amelie, you have much to tell me.” 

He put his arm around Amelie, and they went 
to the table. Pierre and J ean, loudly lamenting, 
had been taken away by Vaucoubert. The father 
and daughter spent nearly the whole afternoon 
in the garden ; it was walled from the rest of the 
world by broken stones and bent iron and bricks. 

“ A brave little girl ! ” 

Nevertheless, Captain de Value wished that 
Amelie had stayed with Bertrand. Bertrand 
was so dependent and helpless, while Amalie had 
the power of conquering difficulties. 

“ The American authorities have probably 
sent him back to Havre,” he said. “We must 
find out, as soon as I can walk well. 

“ I shall not be able to fight for France,” he 
said sadly. “You will never hear your father 
called i General.’ It is almost a pity that you’re 
a girl, Amalie. You might one day be a general 
or even a marshal of France.” 


182 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“I am glad that I am a girl, — I should not 
want to lose my arm or my eyes.” 

“ You don’t understand patriotism, Am61ie.” 

“ Oh, I would lose an eye or an arm to save you, 
papa, but not to fight other people ! ” 

“ You’re not a soldier, my dear ! I shall get 
permission to visit the United States, if Bertrand 
has not been sent back, and find him. There is 
Red Cross work to do there.” 

“ But Bertrand is safe.” 

“ I hope so. O my dear,” he added, seeing the 
anxious look on Amelie’s face, “ I shall not leave 
you behind! We will take Vaucoubert and go 
together.” 

Amelie kissed him silently. 

“ Yes, if you will write a letter for me to Bor- 
deaux, I shall ask permission to leave France for 
a time, since I am so useless. I can not even 
draw maps. I wish I could take that poor 
German boy with me. He will die if he is not 
well taken care of. And Vaucoubert is such a 
good nurse ! The army could lend us a surgeon 
for only a week. It was time enough,” he added, 
looking at the empty sleeve. “ What can we do 
for this fellow Christian of ours, who can no 
longer fight against us? ” 

“Why, the Sisters!” cried Amalie. 


ANXIETY ABOUT BERTRAND 183 

“ Are there Sisters here? ” 

“ Yes ; they have a hospital. I have a letter to 
the Sisters here at Senlis.” 

"Well,” said Captain de Value, "I think 
a boy is nice to have in one’s house; but, for 
real consolation, a father needs a girl like 
you ! ” 

Amalie was delighted ; she had always secretly 
feared that her father loved Bertrand more than 
he loved her. 

At four o’clock Vaucoubert forced the tired 
Captain to go to bed. There she had to go over 
the whole story for Vaucoubert. He told her 
that he had become mixed up among the trains 
on the night he had lost her and Bertrand. 
Troops were coming and going. He was forced, 
in a crowd, into the train for Paris ; and there he 
heard that Captain de Value was at Senlis. He 
admitted that he should have gone on to Havre. 
“ But what could a poor musician do, alone in 
the world? ” 

At Senlis, the battle opened the day after he 
arrived. The destruction was frightful, — “as 
you can see, my dear ! ” He himself had hidden 
in the cellar of the chateau, from which there was 
an underground passage to the road. He crept 
out, to look for his friend among the dead and 


184 


THE ADVENTURERS 


wounded, — this at the risk of his life, for the fire 
still kept up. He found a young German alive 
among the dead. 

“ You are a good Christian,” the poor young 
Lieutenant had said. 44 Many have passed and I 
called out, but they heeded not. 4 Oh, he is Ger- 
man ! ’ one said. 4 Let him die.’ And the poor 
young man told me afterward that he had 
thought: 4 Are these Christians who talk thus? ’ 
And yet he added : 4 When I think that we have 
killed their fathers and sons and ruined their 
homes, perhaps they are pardonable .’ — 4 But,’ I 
said as I put him into the underground passage, 
4 we are not pagans — in France.’ I w^ent back to 
look for your father. He was lying under a dead 
horse. He was unconscious. I succeeded at 
least in getting him into the passage. 4 Now,’ I 
said, 4 the Germans can come back when they 
like.’ But an awful thing occurred.” 

According to the story of Vaucoubert, shrapnel 
was falling everywhere. There were deafening- 
noises. Vaucoubert was alone in the under- 
ground passage, with Captain de Value, seeming 
dead, and with the young German officer, who 
could not keep back his groans. Vaucoubert in- 
tended to get into the cellar at the base of the 
east tower ; from there he knew that the way was 


ANXIETY ABOUT BERTRAND 


185 


clear. But then there was a crash overhead. The 
gray tower, with the top like a pepper-box, sud- 
denly smashed down, closing the opening into 
the cellar. The air was full of dust, and all was 
darkness. It was a sad position for Vaucoubert. 
What help could he expect? He was imprisoned 
with two wounded men. Crash followed after 
crash; the air became as poisonous as gas from 
an open burner. 

“ Sir,” said the wounded German, “ I am 
dying ! You will find my Rosary in the breast of 
my coat. Can you say it? ” 

“ I am not a pagan,” grunted Vaucoubert, in- 
dignantly. “ I have a chaplet of my own.” 

“ If you should escape from this,” the German 
Lieutenant whispered, “ you will write my mother 
at Coblenz that I died for the Fatherland. And 
remember that I thank you. You will find my 
mother’s card in my coat pocket.” 

“ I’ll say nothing about the Fatherland,” said 
Vaucoubert, and he began the Rosary, choking 
between every word. He could hear the young 
German’s faint responses. And, in spite of this 
anxiety, he was pleased to hear that Captain de 
Value had begun to groan. He still lived ! 

When the Rosary was finished, there was si- 
lence for a while, broken after a long interval by 


186 


THE ADVENTURERS 


another crash. There shot a glimpse of light into 
this dark place, and Vaucoubert saw a white cat 
run from one side of the tunnel to the other, and 
disappear. There must be some way out. Vau- 
coubert had marked the vanishing place of the 
cat. He thrust his arm into it; the debris gave 
way, and showed light beyond. It was not easy 
for an old man to widen the passage made by the 
cat — who had guessed at it by instinct, — but he 
did this. It took him nearly all night to get his 
charges through the cellar and into one of the 
rooms at the chateau. The next day an army 
surgeon was found, and Vaucoubert was the only 
nurse. 

“As to Jean and Pierre, the little imps! — 
they just walked in, and we had to take care of 
them,” said Vaucoubert. “ It was, of all times, 
the most terrible. There is no doubt that their 
father and mother are buried in the ruins of 
their house. But they have relatives in Mon- 
teuil; and perhaps the good Olivers will take 
care of them until these relatives are found. No 
man can deal with them. They need a strong 
woman’s hand.” 

When Vaucoubert had finished his story, 
Amalie cried with all her heart. Her poor 
father, — her dear, dear father! How he had 


ANXIETY ABOUT BERTRAND 


187 


suffered! And she away from him ! He could 
never be a General now, — never ! And both his 
father and grandfather had been Generals ! 

As Vaucoubert and Amalie went slowly toward 
the house, Pierre and Jean ran out of a lilac 
bush. 

“We have been good! Give us chocolates, 
please ! ” cried Pierre. “ We were lost, and we 
found ourselves ! ” 

“ And we did not twist the caps tail. It ran 
away. We have been good, big boys. Do not 
let the Old One slap us, little girl ! ” 

“Run!” said Vaucoubert. “Run! Oliver 
will give you bread and sugar.” 

Amelie’s letter to the Sisters, whose hospital 
had been spared by the invaders, was of great 
use. The German officer could not be moved 
from the chateau at once ; but a future place of 
convalescence was ready for him until he could 
be exchanged. 

Captain de Value gained strength. His prog- 
ress was slow, owing to his anxiety about Ber- 
trand ; and the gloom of the war hung over him. 
Both the convent and the hospital had been 
spared at Senlis. It is part of history how the 
bravery of the cure helped to save the beautiful 
cathedral. The Sisters and the children of the 


188 


THE ADVENTURERS 


convent had begged the Germans to be lenient, 
and to leave them undisturbed. Their request 
was granted. 

Jacques Oliver came to his senses when he 
saw his wife and his daughter ; and their happi- 
ness was very great. The father and mother of 
Pierre and Jean still lay under their ruined 
house. In their gratitude, the Olivers were 
very glad to take care of the children until some 
of their relatives should come for them. 

Bertrand had not been sent back, — in fact, 
Vaucoubert determined to go to the United 
States with Captain de Value and Am41ie. 

“ I am of no use to my own country,” he said. 


XV 


THE MEETING OF FATHER AND SON 

The trenches were still full of fighting men, 
the telegraph lines were carrying messages of 
the dead and dying, the world was filled with 
the noise of war, when Captain de Value, Vau- 
coubert, and Amelie sailed for Xew T York. Eve- 
rybody on the steamer was very kind to the dis- 
abled French officer. The Captain and Vaucou- 
bert had been given special work for the Red 
Cross by the French Government. There were 
times during the voyage when it seemed that he 
must die on the deck, he was so weak, and semi- 
blindness had come on ; he could see only 
through strong glasses. He brightened up when 
his ship passed the Statue of Liberty in the most 
beautiful bay of the world, and at last he 
stepped on the shore of his wife’s country. 

Amelie opened her eyes in amazement. 

“I never dreamed that mamma could have 
lived in a big country like this,” she said. 

“ Live and learn ! ” cried Vaucoubert, im- 
189 


190 


THE ADVENTURERS 


pressed by the sight of the biggest skyscrapers. 
“ It is one of the wonders of the world. It is 
as splendid as the music of a great composer.” 

It would have seemed most wonderful to Vau- 
coubert had he known that his nephew had 
led the choir and Bertrand had sung in the 
church where they heard Mass on the first Sun- 
day after their arrival in New York. But by 
this time, Guy Vaucoubert was in France, in the 
ranks, and Bertrand was with his great-uncle in 
Clarence. Captain de Value found a telegram 
from Mr. Watson asking him to come to Clar- 
ence at once, and giving careful directions as to 
the way of reaching that town. Here Amelie’s 
knowledge of English came in. 

“How can so many sensible people speak 
such a language?” asked Vaucoubert. “It 
seems terrible. Of course the Germans speak 
German, — that is because they are so obstinate ; 
but these Americans are a different people, and 
one expects more of them.” 

“I think,” Amelie said to her father, after 
this speech, “that our dear Vaucoubert says 
silly things sometimes.” 

“We all say silly things sometimes.” 

“ You never do, papa.” 

“ Oh, yes, I do ! But when I am tempted to 


THE MEETING OE FATHER AND SON 191 


consider another person silly, I always go back 
into my mind and find out how silly I have been. 
It seems very foolish to strangers when one 
criticises them. Do you remember the person 
who came to our place once? (I forget 
whether he was an Englishman or an American. ) 
He thought all the peasants ‘ silly ? because they 
wore wooden shoes.” 

“ It does seem silly to see people eating maize 
(corn they call it) off the cob. Vaucouberti 
showed me a picture of it yesterday, and as- 
sured me that it is frequently done.” 

“ It was probably one of the amusements of 
your mother’s youth,” replied Captain de Value, 
laughing. “But suppose I let you dip your 
bread in wine and water at the table of this 
hotel, as you have often done? People here 
would think that I was making a drunkard of 
you.” 

“ O papa ! 99 

“ Yes. And do you remember the American 
Catholic girl who was astonished when she saw 
the acolytes carrying the blessed bread around 
the church at Senlis? She had never seen it 
done in her own country and she was shocked 
because the people ate it. She accepted it 
finally as an old and absurd custom.” 


192 


THE ADVENTUKEKS 


“ She was silly! ” 

“ No, only inexperienced. It is a sign of pro- 
vincialism to find fault with what we have never 
seen before.” 

“ What is 6 provincialism/ papa? ” 

“ The quality of being so satisfied with what 
we do that we find fault with other people for 
doing anything else. We are in a wonderful 
country. Let us enjoy it, and not find fault. 
To-morrow for Clarence and our dear Ber- 
trand ! ” 

The next morning, Amelie almost wept when 
she found the sky gray and a drizzling rain com- 
ing down. The weather always looks worse 
from a hotel window than from one’s own home. 
There a girl or boy can always find things to do 
in spite of the rain; in a hotel there is nothing. 
The train did not start until one o’clock. 

At breakfast, however, the waiter addressed 
Amelie as “ Miss ” several times. And after 
breakfast Captain de Value felt so well that he 
proposed to “ do ” the Metropole Museum, and 
then to go to a great department store to buy 
some gifts for Bertrand. The morning passed 
quickly. 

The night was spent at Buffalo. The Cap- 
tain, like most strangers, would see Niagara 


THE MEETING OE EATHEB AND SON 193 


Falls. And then lie would go to Chicago, to 
arrange some business with the French 
Consul. 

Amelie was charmed with Niagara Falls. It 
was too beautiful ! The immense, white plumes 
of water were like the tips of great angels’ 
wings. For an hour she forgot even Bertrand. 

“ O father,” she said, “ it is the most splendid 
thing in the world.” 

********* 

At Clarence, an automobile awaited them. 
Out of it jumped an elderly man and Bertrand. 
The elderly man was tall, dressed in a suit of 
gray clothes, which made him look younger than 
sixty-five and he had kind gray eyes. Amelie 
noticed that, as he stooped to kiss her, he was 
very tall. But Bertrand had changed. He was 
taller, of course; he laughed louder; his hands 
were rough. Mr. Watson called him the “ kid ” ; 
he rushed about, and looked after their trunks. 
His face was brown, and he said: “ Hello, 
Am41ie ! ” He was different : he had become a 
man, an “ American,” even in so short a time ; 
and he spoke English. His face was lighted by 
happiness. He had been prepared, so that he 
did not appear to notice his father’s armless 
sleeve or his halting step. 


194 


THE ADVENTUKEKS 


Mr. Watson stood with his hack to the group. 
He was deeply touched when he saw the affec- 
tionate meeting of these three. He said to him- 
self : 

“ I would give one of my arms to have chil- 
dren to love me like that ! ” 

He still kept his back to the group; tears 
filled his eyes. 

“ I’ve given all my spare hours to music and 
all my others to business, but this love is better 
than all.” 

“ O dearest father,” he heard Bertrand say 
over and over again, “we will never part 
again, — never, never ! ” 

The automobile rushed through a long coun- 
try road, past farms with wooden fences, some 
of which needed repair; past painted and un- 
painted houses, with chickens wandering about in 
the front yards ; past oak woods and some pines ; 
past whole acres of glass houses, where early 
vegetables and violets and roses were grown; 
past two or three country churches, one with a 
golden cross; and past one schoolhouse, with a 
weathercock. 

“ All wood! ” Captain de Value was amazed. 
“Are there no stone houses or brick barns? ” 

“A few,” Mr. Watson answered. “Wooden 


THE MEETING OF FATHER AND SON 195 


houses are warmer than stone, and one gets 
used to them.” 

“ It is not a gentleman’s country,” Amelie 
said, in an undertone, to her father. “No cha- 
teaux, no manor houses, — just poor wooden 
boxes ! ” 

“ Hush, dear ! ” replied her father. 

“ You’re wrong there ! ” Bertrand broke in. 
“ There are lots of nice people here, and nearly 
everybody on these farms has an automobile.” 

“ What’s that, if you have to live in a wooden 
house, with zigzag fences?” returned Amalie, 
still in an undertone. “It’s not nice, I tell 
you ! ” 

“It’s American,” answered Bertrand; “and 
that is nice enough for me ! ” 

Amalie was inclined to cry. Could this be 
her own, dear brother Bertrand? 

Mr. Watson laughed. 

“ So soon an American ! ” he said. 

“ Well, after all I have gone through, and the 
fight I have had, I’ve got to be an American 
while I’m here, to hold my own. Besides, since 
I’ve seen papa ” (he spoke in English, and low- 
ered his voice), “ I must grow up very fast, and 
be a man; and a boy becomes a man more 
quickly in America than in France.” 


196 


THE ADVENTURERS 


Amelie felt as if the world had turned upside 
down. She was jealous of her great-uncle: he 
had taken her dear “ baby brother” away from 
her, — her little Bertrand! To make it worse, 
Captain de Value said, looking at Bertrand’s up- 
right figure through his glasses: 

“ He looks more manly. He will need all his 
strength and energy; for his father is losing 
both.” 

Bertrand put his head for a moment on his 
father’s shoulder. 

“ O papa, how good it is to have you ! ” 

Vaucoubert looked with great disapproval at 
the landscape. He had not quite recovered 
from the joy he felt when he heard that his dear 
Guy had become a soldier of France, and he had 
hoped to admire a country that had not spoiled 
his nephew’s patriotism. 

“ It’s a poor country in winter,” he said, — “ no 
poplar trees and no apple orchards. What do 
they do for cider? A poor country! ” 

“ You should see New York ! ” cried Bertrand. 

“ I have seen Paris,” answered Vaucoubert, 
coldly. 

“ So did I — once,” returned Bertrand. “ But 
Paris is not a patch on New York.” 

“ Go slow, kid ! ” said Mr. Watson. “ You’re 


THE MEETING OF FATHER AND SON 197 

right, but do not shock people. You can be a 
good American without talking about it so 
much, — well, here we are ! ” 

They drove up the broad road to a large 
house of many windows, with a great, circular 
sweep of steps to the door. The house was evi- 
dently of well-painted wood, but a fine house 
nevertheless. A man ran down the steps to 
help the new arrivals. 

“A veritable chateau ! ” said Captain de Value. 
“No: only an honest farmhouse, entirely at 
your service for the rest of your life, if you 
choose,” said Mr. Watson, cordially, throwing 
his overcoat to the waiting-man. “ Now let me 
assist you. First my niece ! ” 

Dusk had not yet begun to fall. Vaucoubert 
had seen two figures — a man and a woman — 
pass through their car at Chicago ; and then, evi- 
dently noticing that he spoke French, they had 
taken a seat just behind him. Captain de Value 
had the sofa at the end of the Pullman car, and 
Amelie was with him. These two strangers 
talked for a while, much to Vaucoubert’s pleas- 
ure. He was glad to hear his beloved French. 
After a time the man had offered him a cigar. 
Vaucoubert preferred not to smoke; but, never- 
theless, he was grateful. The man had been in 


198 


THE ADVENTURERS 


Montreal; lie managed an opera troupe, gener- 
ally of small children who could sing. 

“ What a pity ! ” Vaucoubert had said. “ You 
will spoil their voices.” 

Vaucoubert had become very well acquainted 
with these people; but he had not given them 
his name, and he had not heard their names. He 
recalled their conversation as he saw these two 
figures slide away into the oak wood near the 
house, — first stopping to observe the arriving 
group. Once in his room, he recalled, too, that 
the man had said he had found a fine boy so- 
prano in New York, that he had lost him, that 
he had heard that the boy had gone West, and 
that he was now on his track. “ The opera of 
‘The Little Prince’ would never succeed with- 
out him in Montreal,” they had said. Vaucou- 
bert had talked about music with the two for a 
time; then he and his party had gone into the 
dining car, and he had lost sight of his com- 
patriots. And here they were at Clarence. He 
could not fail to recognize them, but he forgot 
all about them in the delights of Mr. Watson’s 
house. There were two music rooms, contain- 
ing two grand pianos and all kinds of musical 
instruments, among them a violoncello by a fa- 
mous maker* 


THE MEETING OP FATHER AND SON 199 

“ How,” lie asked, “ can all these things be in 
the house of an American farmer? ” 

“ An American farmer may look after three or 
four farms, as I do,” laughed Mr. Watson, “ and 
yet have time to love music, and even to offer a 
prize for good songs, which I have done. Here’s 
the prize song.” 

Vaucoubert was delighted when he learned 
that his nephew had gained the prize and won 
the grand piano. 

“ An American farmer with such taste ! ” he 
said. “ I expected only Red Indians. Come : I 
will play the accompaniment, and you will sing 
it, Bertrand.” 

Vaucoubert took his place at the piano. Ber- 
trand held back; his eyes filled with tears, and 
his hands trembled, as he held the music. 

“ Oh, tell him, uncle ! 99 he whispered. 

“ Well, Mr. Vaucoubert, I must tell you 
something, though I hate it as much as you 
do ; Bertrand has, unfortunately, lost his 
voice.” 

“ Impossible ! ” said Vaucoubert. “ He had 
an angelic voice. Impossible! Why should the 
good God punish him so? ” 

“God knows best,” answered Mr. Watson. 
“ The loss of his voice may not have been a pun- 


200 


THE ADVENTURERS 


ishment: it may Rave been for some good pur- 
pose.” 

Vaucoubert left tbe piano, and did not come 
from his room until after dinner. Looking out 
over the roof from the veranda, to the west, he 
imagined he saw a dark figure apparently watch- 
ing the house. He was so wretched that this 
misfortune had come to Bertrand that he could 
think of nothing else. Afterward he heartily 
wished that he had spoken of the appearance of 
this figure to Mr. Watson. 

The dinner was a merry one. In honor of the 
occasion, Mr. Watson had produced a number of 
very gay “ crackers ” ; and even Captain de Value 
was compelled to wear a military cap, which 
contained the motto : 

Little soldier, run away, 

And you can fight another day ! 

Amalie was adorned with a white Pierrette 
cap, with large red circles on it; and her motto 
read : 

Dance and sing while it is light : 

Danger cometh with the night. 

“We have no danger to fear this night,” Cap- 
tain de Value said, “ with all that we love best 
about us.” 


THE MEETING OF FATHER AND SON 201 


Mr. Watson, so frank, so kind, so considerate, 
had quite won the heart of Captain de Value. 

Bertrand had caught cold on his way to Clar- 
ence. Mr. Watson’s doctor was compelled to 
perform an operation on his throat, and he be- 
came as Mr. Watson said, “a voiceless nightin- 
gale.” As it is the male nightingale that sings, 
his uncle’s comparison was not so bad as it might 
seem. For a time the loss of his voice almost 
broke his heart. He had been made to believe 
that he possessed one of the most beautiful voices 
in the world. People in New York had petted 
him; the priest at the church had praised him, 
and he looked forward to a time when his father 
would love him as much as he loved Amelie. In 
his heart, Bertrand believed that Captain de 
Value loved Amelie better because she was the 
more clever of the two. Now that he had such a 
beautiful voice, his father might love him as 
much as Amelie. 

Bertrand was a foolish boy, you see, to let such 
an idea remain in his mind ; for his father loved 
one child as much as the other, only in a different 
way. 

Bertrand, before he saw his father, felt as if 
the horrible secret — the loss of his voice — would 
make a great difference when it was revealed. 


202 


THE AD VENTURERS 


“What!” his father might say. “You careless 
boy, — you who were silly enough to put your 
head out of the car window in a snowstorm, to 
buy sweets and peanuts, and to lose your voice ! 
How can you ever expect me to love you? ” 

Mr. Watson kept him in the open air. He 
hunted rabbits, he worked among the chickens, he 
played hockey with the Clarence boys, he grew 
stronger and more vigorous. “When you are 
not at your books,” said Mr. Watson, “ you must 
be in the open air.” If Bertrand had not worked 
among the fowls for several hours there would 
be no sweets for him at dinner. “ You must keep 
your good manners, of course,” said the uncle; 
“ but you will not be allowed to have soft hands.” 


XVI 


BERTRAND'S HEROISM 

One day Bertrand liad received a great shock, 
— a shock which changed his point of view of life. 

He and John Lockyard — one of the men who 
looked after the pigs — were walking near the big 
pond (it was almost a lake) just outside the 
farmyard. The pond was half covered with ice. 
Lockyard discovered two wild ducks entangled 
in a network of bushes near the middle of the 
pond. Their legs were caught. A better net 
could not have been devised. The bushes were 
tied tight by a vine which almost stifled their 
growth. Lockyard pulled off his coat. 

“ Wild ducks for supper ! ” he said. 

“Xo, — it is not worth it. There will be a 
lot in the pond to-morrow. They will be coming 
in, because we are having frost, and there’s snow 
promised by the clouds. You can easily get a 
dozen with your gun. The ice will not hold, and 
the pond has a treacherous bottom. I know,” 
said Bertrand, thinking of his own difficulties in 
the pond a few days before, when he had thrown 
203 


204 


THE ADVENTURERS 


a hockey ball at a crow and endeavored to re- 
trieve it. 

“ I’ll try,” said Lockyard, not pleased at being 
taught something about an American pond by a 
French boy. He took off his coat, his waistcoat, 
and his boots and socks. 

“ It is not worth it ! ” Bertrand called out, as 
Lockyard stepped from one piece of ice to 
another. 

The ducks struggled more fiercely than ever at 
his approach. 

Mr. Watson came out of the barn at this mo- 
ment. He stopped and called out : 

“ Come back, Lockyard ! It’s deep out 
there ! ” 

Lockyard leaned forward, grasped the leg of 
the nearest duck, lost his balance and went under 
the water. The other duck, released, flew up- 
ward with a cry of joy. 

In a few moments Bertrand, confident in his 
power as a good swimmer, had thrown off his 
outer garments and shoes. He hopped from one 
cake of ice to the other, and plunged in after 
Lockyard. The water was freezing, but Ber- 
trand was in a warm glow. It was not an easy 
matter to drag Lockyard to the shore. Finally 
he was safe, standing among the dry reeds, shiv- 


BERTRAND’S HEROISM 


205 


ering, the unfortunate duck still clasped in his 
right fist. Bertrand laughed, although he was 
dripping. 

“ There is a tub of hot water in the barn,” said 
Bertrand. “ Lockyard had better get into it at 
once. The stableman will give him a rub, and 
I’ll run to his bouse for dry clothes.” 

“ Not at all ! ” Mr. Watson spoke rather im- 
patiently. “You will put on your coat and 
overcoat, run home as fast as you can, and get to 
bed. The stableman will take care of Lock- 
yard. — Lockyard, you’re an idiot, to risk your 
own life and my nephew’s for a supper. Go 
straight to the barn and get into the hot bath.” 

“I can’t go, sir” (Lockyard was sincerely 
grateful), “without thanking this young gentle- 
man for saving my life. My wife and my 
children will go down on their knees to him, 
sir.” 

“What for?” asked Mr. Watson. “I don’t 
think they’ve much reason to be thankful. I 
wouldn’t like to have a fool like you in my family. 
As to my nephew, he did only what any decent 
young man, who knows he can swim, does when 
he sees another trying to drown himself.” 

“ I say he is a hero, sir.” 

“ Go into the tub at once ! ” roared Mr. Watson. 


206 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ As to you, Bertrand, you did nothing but what 
anybody else would do in your place. Run home 
now, and keep warm till dinner time.” 

Bertrand went home, astonished. He had ex- 
pected that his uncle would call him a brave boy 
and perhaps give him a reward. He had often 
imagined himself as the hero of just such an 
episode— at Mers, for instance; and then, in his 
dreams, the whole population had come out to 
greet him with bands and flags and flowers ; the 
mayor and the cure had publicly thanked him, 
and an arch had been put up in front of the De 
Value house, with the legend, “ Bertrand the 
Hero.” 

As he ran home he reflected that things were 
so different in America. His uncle seemed to 
think that anybody who could swim would jump 
in to save anybody that could not. How differ- 
ently Vaucoubert would have behaved! “ Hero 
of beautiful France,” he would have said, “ come 
to my arms ! The laurel wreaths of glory await 
thee.” On the whole, however, Bertrand con- 
cluded, after he was safe in his room, refreshing 
himself with a hot lemonade, that a warm bed 
was, after all, better than a laurel wreath. 

Mr. Watson congratulated Bertrand at dinner 
on his quick recovery, and announced that “ the 


BERTRAND’S HEROISM 207 

duck-hunter was quite well. The hot bath did 
it.” 

“ I suppose, Bertrand,” Mr. Watson remarked 
the next day, “ that you expected me to say you 
were a brave boy, to jump into the water after 
that idiot, Lockyard.” 

Bertrand blushed. 

“ Of course you did ! Let me say that I think 
it requires more courage very often for a boy to 
tell the truth than to jump into the water after 
a drowning person. If you had, under trying 
temptation, told the truth when it seemed to be 
your personal interest not to do so, I should have 
thought your action more heroic. Do you under- 
stand me? ” 

When people to whom Lockyard had told the 
story of his perilous adventure tried to congratu- 
late Bertrand, he laughed and said: “I only 
helped Lockyard to get his duck.” If it had not 
been for his uncle’s attitude, Bertrand would 
have tired everybody by the constant repetition 
of the details : “ And then, just as Lockyard was 
suffocating, I ” Or, “ The moment he dis- 

appeared in the freezing water, I plunged after 
him ” 

“No I’s! ” said his uncle; and it was a lesson 
to Bertrand, — a very good lesson. 


208 


THE ADVENTURERS 


But now that Captain de Value and Am41ie 
and Vaucoubert knew that he had lost his voice, 
he was happy. He was sure that his father loved 
him none the less. And here they all were, 
together under one roof! His voice, he knew, 
would never return ; but that would not prevent 
him from doing his duty and making his father 
proud of him. 

While Mr. Watson, Vaucoubert, and Amalie 
were practicing at the piano in the East Room, 
and Captain de Value was sitting near the big 
window listening to the three, Bertrand remem- 
bered that he had left in the barn a bag of chest- 
nuts carefully saved for the home-coming of 
Amelie. It would be delightful to roast them 
at the big grate. He ran through the dining- 
room, through the butler’s pantry, and out into 
the garden at the back. He passed to the side 
of the barn. In the light behind the thin cur- 
tains of the window, he saw his father’s face. 
He stopped to look at it, and then went on, 
murmuring, “ Dear papa ! ” How happy he 
was! 

A woman in a black cloak came out of the 
arbor. 

“ Dear papa ! ” she whispered sarcastically. 
“You’ll not see your dear papa very soon, if 


BERTRAND’S HEROISM 


209 


ever. — Come ! Well catch him as he comes out 
of the barn ; the automobile is ready.” 

A man, thus addressed, joined the woman. As 
the light from the window shone upon them for 
a moment, Bertrand might have easily known 
them. They were the Simon couple who had met 
Vaucoubert on the train from Chicago. 

These two softly followed the boy, and watched 
him as he turned the key of the barn door. Full 
of happiness, he tried to sing. There was a good 
note or two and a series of discords. He tried 
again : only flatted notes resulted. 

The key of the door did not turn easily; Ber- 
trand, still singing, examined it carefully by the 
glow of his pocket electric light. 

The man and woman drew back into the 
shadow. 

“ He has lost his voice ! ” murmured Simon. 

“ He sings like a crow. It would not be worth 
while to take him, Simon. We must find another 
6 Little Prince.’ If we could only have kept him 
when we had him ! ” 

“ Come ! ” replied Simon. “ Our time has been 
wasted.” 

And these two dark shadows crept away. 

The automobile glided softly over the well- 
kept road. Captain de Value, as he caught a 


210 


THE ADVENTURERS 


glimpse of its lamp from the window, did not 
realize that his son had escaped a great danger 
because he had lost his voice. The Captain re- 
flected that, to Bertrand, the loss of voice was 
a temporary affliction, because people would 
never “ pet ” him now, and say how “ angelic ” 
he was. For his own sake, it seemed a good 
thing that his voice had gone. A conceited boy 
is very unpleasant to other people, and he soon 
becomes so vain that all the strong qualities of 
his character disappear. 

As to the Simons, one can quite safely say that 
justice eventually overtook them. The com- 
plaint of the Schmidmeyers to the Federal 
Officials brought them to jail. 

When Bertrand returned with the chestnuts, 
the group at the piano were singing a hymn to 
the Guardian Angel : 

“ 0 Angel dear, so wise and strong, 

To whom God gave me ! in your care 
I shall feel safe the whole night long, 

And in your love and kindness share.” 

It was not easy to walk in the paths and roads 
near Mr. Watson’s house. The ground was wet ; 
the mud was sticky and of the consistency of 
leather. This kept Captain de Value in the 


BERTRAND’S HEROISM 


211 


house, and his health suffered. Mr. Watson was 
in high boots, encrusted with mud, when he was 
not at his meals or at the piano with Vaucoubert. 
He had two passions — farming and music, — and 
it was a great pleasure for him to have Vaucou- 
bert with him. He was naturally very much 
concerned about Captain de Value’s health. 

Am41ie and Bertrand were driven in a carriage 
to school : they could not walk. And this aston- 
ished them, accustomed as they had been to the 
good roads in France. Bertrand liked his school ; 
Amalie did not like hers. In the first place, she 
objected to going to school at all. No girls that 
she knew in France went to school every day; 
they all had governesses at home. And she had 
never met any of these girls before, and she knew 
nothing of their fathers and mothers. And, then, 
only the Mother Superior spoke French. She did 
not like the school at all. Mr. Watson laughed, 
and Captain de Value was amused. 

“ I imagine that your mother went to that kind 
of school,” said the latter. 

“ How horrid for mamma ! 99 protested Am61ie. 

“ Don’t put on airs, dear,” said her grand- 
uncle. “ You’ll get used to it.” 

A heavy snowstorm, followed by a strong frost, 
•hanged Amalie’s point of view. She and Ber- 


212 


THE ADVENTURERS 


trand went across the fields on snowshoes to 
school every day, and nothing could induce her 
to stay at home even for a half day. The winter 
sports delighted her, and Bertrand was happy 
“ as a cricket.” 

Am&Lie learned very soon that she should not 
apply French ideas to a country so different from 
her own. To begin with, she exclaimed against 
“chops” and potatoes and porridge for break- 
fast. “ It is savage ! ” she said. “ In France, a 
roll and coffee with milk was enough.” Ber- 
trand and the rest of the family went on calmly 
eating sausages and even hot cakes in the morn- 
ing. And after a time Amelie found that a roll 
and coffee at half-past seven were not enough. 
At twelve o’clock she was so hungry as to feel 
“unladylike,” as she phrased it; and she was 
glad to accept the gift of an additional sandwich 
from a fellow-pupil, “ whose parents she did not 
know,” but the sandwich was very good. 


XVII 


A LETTER FROM OLD FRIENDS 

Amelie at first strongly objected to Bertrand’s 
going to school without an elder person with him. 
She could not think of such a thing ! 

“ He ought to have a bonne , uncle,” she said. 

“A what?” asked Mr. Watson, who liked to 
hear Amelie’s views, — “ a nurse, do you mean, for 
a great, hulking boy like your brother? ” 

“ At home, all boys of his class would be ac- 
companied to school by a bonne ; and I, too, 
would be so accompanied. If my father were 
quite well he would see that the present arrange- 
ment is not proper.” 

“ It is quite proper here, Emily,” answered Mr. 
Watson, who always insisted on Englishing 
names ; “ and your father understands it. Ber- 
trand would not dare to show his face in school, 
if I sent an old woman with him — on snowshoes.” 
(Mr. Watson laughed.) “As for you, you are 
quite able to take care of yourself when you drive 
or walk. There are half a dozen girls coming or 
213 


214 


THE ADVENTURESS 


going your way, not to mention Bertrand and the 
other boys. You must learn American ways, 
little Emily.” But American ways seemed 
queer to Amelie. Unlike Bertrand, she never 
became entirely “Americanized.” Uncle Wat- 
son liked her, but he thought her “ strange.” 

At recess, when it rained and the girls could 
not play games in the open air, Amelie always 
brought with her “ something ” to sew or to knit 
or to embroider. This excited amusement at 
first. The girls preferred to yawn, to eat apples, 
to read story-books or papers ; a few gathered at 
the window, and wished that the rain would 
cease. Am61ie’s knitting-needles clicked. 

“ What are you working for all the time? ” 
asked Anna Singleton, the girl from whom 
Amalie had accepted the sandwich. 

“I must not be idle. See! — if I knit for 
twenty minutes every day, I can finish something 
in two weeks.” 

“ How queer ! ” Anna Singleton was joined by 
some other girls. “ And do you knit when 
‘company’ comes?” 

Amelie thought a moment; it was hard to 
translate the word “ company ” into French. 

“Oh, yes!” she answered. “My mother al- 
ways embroidered or knitted when guests came, 


A LETTER FROM OLD FRIENDS 215 

if it was not a grand occasion. And, if Uncle 
Watson invited some people to dinner, I should 
ask permission to knit or to embroider. I was 
well taught/’ added Amelie, with pride, “Ma- 
dame la Brune taught me. This sock is for a 
soldier in France ; the silk cravat I finished yes- 
terday is to be given to my father on his birth- 
day.” 

“It is so much easier to buy things!” said 
Anna Singleton. “ I shouldn’t be very grateful 
for home-made presents. Besides, your uncle is 
rich; he has a big house.” 

Amelie looked at the speaker in amazement. 

“Why should I buy a cravat for my father? 
I have been taught to make better cravats than 
you can buy. My father loves the things I make 
for him.” 

“ I don’t think my father could wear a sock 
I would make for him.” (The girls laughed.) 
“Home-made things are not stylish. We buy 
everything. Papa can afford it.” 

Nevertheless, Amelie’s example had its effect, 
and the Sisters were glad of it. 

Very often Captain de Value, who could limp 
about, came over to see Amelie at recess, and to 
bring her cookies, which she shared with her 
companions. The girls all liked him very much. 


216 


THE ADVENTURERS 


One day lie brought for Amelie’s class a dozen 
little baskets that one of his old soldiers, now an 
invalid, had made and sent to him from France. 
He was altogether so nice that the twelve girls, 
in the dull hours of the rainy days, began to 
make him twelve cravats for his birthday. 
Amelie no longer worked alone, and on his 
birthday the Captain’s neckties ranged in colors 
from black to pale pink. But he was careful to 
wear them all in succession. 

The children had several letters from the 
Schmidmeyers. Carl’s were full of delights 
from New York, — the “movies,” the electric 
lights, the crowds. At last a rather sorrowful 
one came. 

Mr. Schmidmeyer had fallen in front of an au- 
tomobile in Third Avenue, and in consequence 
his left leg had been cut off. Carl, being the 
eldest, must go to work. Of course he must 
give up school. His parents could no longer 
support him; for Mr. Schmidmeyer’s convales- 
cence would last at least a year. 

The family listened to the letter, which Ber- 
trand read, with deep regret. 

“ Oh, I am sorry, — so sorry ! ” cried Amelie. 
“ Those people were very, very kind to us ! ” 

“Nobody could be kinder to me,” said Ber- 


A LETTER FROM OLD FRIENDS 217 

trand. “ O Uncle Watson, can’t you do some- 
thing for them? ” 

“ Do, do, dear Uncle ! ” Amelie supplicated, — 
“oh, do!” 

“ I don’t know them,” answered Uncle Watson, 
looking out the window. “ They haven’t done 
anything for me, Can’t you do something? ” 

Captain de Value dropped his paper. He was 
sitting by the fire, listening quietly. The ways 
of Uncle Watson always amused him. 

“ Do something ! ” repeated Bertrand. “ What 
can / do? Perhaps papa will give me some 
money.” 

“No doubt he will, if you ask him.” (Uncle 
Watson stopped to light his pipe.) “But if I 
wanted to help a friend, I should not begin by 
asking somebody else to give him money.” 

There was silence ; the children looked at Cap- 
tain de Value, who purposely averted his face. 
Then Bertrand fixed his eyes on Uncle Watson 
and thought. 

“Uncle,” he said, “might we not have Carl 
here, to learn farming? He could have half my 
clothes, and sleep in the other iron bed in my 
room.” 

“ I have money in my box to pay his fare! ” 
exclaimed Amelie. “ Papa gave me all I had left 


218 


THE ADVENTURERS 


over, after the voyage, for Christmas money. I 
can make all the Christmas gifts I need.” 

“ Carl can work for his board and lodging, 
and I will pay him from my pocket money for 
sawing part of my wood,” added Bertrand. 

“Yon will have to do without something, — 
chocolates, for example, and new music.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right, Uncle Watson ! Now 
that I have lost my voice, I don’t need new mu- 
sic.” 

“But if I sent Carl Schmidmeyer to school 
(it is a pity that he should lose his education) 
and teach him farming at the same time, it will 
be expensive. Who is to pay me for the experi- 
ence I give away? ” asked Uncle Watson, sol- 
emnly. “ It cost me money and time to learn 
farming, and I can’t be expected to give the re- 
sult to Carl Schmidmeyer for nothing.” 

Amalie stopped to poke the grate fire. She 
wondered why her uncle could not be more gen- 
erous; yet, after all, the Schmidmeyers were not 
his friends. “ Oh, these Americans,” she said 
to herself, “they can never be French — poor 
things ! ” 

“ It’s a rotten world,” Bertrand burst out. 
“ You’re obliged to pay for everything you 
get.” 


A LETTER FROM OLD FRIENDS 219 


“ That’s true/’ answered Uncle Watson, cor- 
dially. “ I have always found it so. 

“ It’s a very good world we live in, 

To lend or to take or to give in ; 

But to borrow, to beg, or to get one ’s own, 

’Tis the very worst world that ever was known.” 

“ Come, my dear Uncle Watson ! ” said Cap- 
tain de Value, who had listened carefully. “ It 
is not quite so bad as that. We often get our 
own; but for a poor man who has to borrow or 
beg, it is a hard world, and that is just the rea- 
son why we want to help this poor Schmidmeyer 
boy. It would be unfair to ask you to do it, you 
have so much on your hands.” 

“Half this property is yours, as you know, 
Captain de Value. It was your wife’s.” 

“ Oh, very well ! ” said the Captain. “ That 
has nothing to do with this case. The children 
are under obligation to the good Schmidmeyers, — 
great obligation. Now is their chance to begin 
to pay it off. They can not help Carl Schmid- 
meyer by merely wishing to do it. And I can 
not neglect my poor French people, to ” 

“ Of course not, papa ! ” cried Amelie. “ I hate 
to give up things, but I see that we can’t expect 
other people to pay our debts. After all, except 


220 


THE ADVENTURERS 


God, there is nobody but our parents who gives 
us anything worth while for nothing. Why, 
even when a girl here gives me a Christmas gift, 
she expects one in return. It’s no sacrifice for 
me to give up money I don’t use, but I have to 
give up things I have every day. Now, I’ll give 
up sweets for dessert, and that will help toward 
Carl Schmidmeyer.” 

“ I will, too ! ” put in Bertrand. 

“ It needn’t come to that,” Uncle Watson said, 
“ That would be asking too much. Amelie will 
pay Carl’s fare; Bertrand will share his room 
with Carl, and the money allowed for Bertrand’s 
clothes can be divided between them. Amelie 
can knit Carl’s socks and neckties, and he can 
pay her back when he begins to earn wages.” 

“I will not take a sou!” exclaimed Amalie, 
her eyes flashing, — “ no ! ” 

“ It’s only business. Do you think Carl wants 
to take your socks and neckties for nothing? I 
think we can arrange the matter, so that Carl 
can come and be happy in the country without 
the ( movies.’ ” 

“Oh, thank you, Uncle Watson!” And the 
children ran out, — Amelie to write to Mrs. 
Schmidmeyer, and Bertrand to Carl. 

“Isn’t it hard on the children?” Captain de 


A LETTER FROM OLD FRIENDS 221 

Value asked. “ They want to he generous, 
and your business-like methods rather chill 
them.” 

“ The worst thing that can happen to chil- 
dren,” replied Mr. Watson, “ is to have them 
taught that they can receive things without pay- 
ing for them in some way. It is a serious fault 
in our American life. It makes children un- 
grateful, and parents unhappy. This is not an 
easy world to live in, and it is a mistake to lead 
young people to believe that it is. Your young 
people will be all the better for giving up some- 
thing in order to show their gratitude to Mrs. 
Schmidmeyer. I like their spirit all the better 
because I gather that Carl is not specially agree- 
able to them.” 

Captain de Value laughed. 

“ It seems hard on them ; but you are wise.” 

On the following Tuesday evening Carl came. 
He had a lonely journey, and when the children 
met him at the station he looked sad and hun- 
gry* 

“Carl!” exclaimed Bertrand. “Welcome, 
Carl ! Papa, this is Carl ! ” 

“ Oh, we are so happy to have you ! ” cried 
Amelie, shaking hands warmly. “You have 
just come in time to see the new little pink pigs. 


222 THE ADVENTURERS 

Oh, and all your family will come in the sum- 
mer ! ” 

Carl’s eyes brightened. This was not home, 
but he was among friends. He bowed to Cap- 
tain de Value; it was the sight of the grave, 
kindly Captain that gave him the greatest con- 
solation. He saw that, in spite of the traces of 
his wounds, Captain de Value was very much 
alive. 

“ Then my father will live, too,” he said to 
himself. 

“ Good-evening, young man ! ” called out Mr. 
Watson. “ Here, sit next to me. I don’t sup- 
pose you can drive an automobile, can you? But 
when the spring comes you can learn to ride 
on one of my Iceland ponies.” 

Carl flushed with pleasure. 

“ Thank you, sir ! ” 

“ You’ll find that better than the ‘ movies.’ ” 

“ Oh, yes, Mr. Watson ! I see only shadows 
of ponies in the c movies,’ but you see the real 
things out here in the country.” 

“ Right ! And now we start ! ” 

After dinner, Carl, who had a good baritone 
voice, sang with the others; he forgot to be 
lonely in thinking of the pleasure his first letter 
would give to those at home. 


A LETTER FROM OLD FRIENDS 223 

“ After school to-morrow, Dockyard will teach 
you something about farming for an hour or 
two,” said Uncle Watson. “ You are one of the 
family, and we are glad to have you with us. 
Good-night ! ” 

Amelie said good-night, and thanked him for 
the photograph of Alphonsus he had brought. 

“A new day will come to-morrow,” Carl said 
to her. “ It seemed very dark before you wrote 
to my mother.” 

Amelie thought of her own dark hours among 
the ruins of Senlis ; and Bertrand, of his impris- 
onment in the Simon room. 

“ There is always God,” said Amelie. 

“ You are a good girl,” said Carl ; “ my mother 
likes me always to remember that.” 

“ A new day!” Captain de Value thought. 
“ Yes, — yes, — in spite of all there must come a 
new day, — a day of peace for the world.” 

Time passed. Vaucoubert, having assured 
himself that Captain de Value was out of dan- 
ger, went back to France, in the hope of finding 
his nephew. 

The Captain’s eyesight became better, but he 
finally lost the use of his legs, and somebody was 
called on to wheel him through the rooms and 
the grounds. 


224 


THE ADVENTURERS 


“ God has halted me here/’ he said often, “ and 
I am grateful to be with my children, — but it is 
hard on an old soldier ! ” 

But his children were glad. He could not go 
back to the horrors of war, and they could keep 
him with them. When the glad day of the Ar- 
mistice came, even Bertrand, who had felt that 
he was growing up simply to fight, was not dis- 
appointed. “ If men were good,” he thought, 
“we should have no wars.” But he looked 
proudly at his fists. “ If I ought to fight, these 
are best!” he said. 

“ Boys,” answered Amelie, in disgust, “ are 
savages, — everywhere. If the world were all 
girls, there would be no wars.” 


THE END 
















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